Enchanted
by BeforeTheStorm15
Summary: Tough, cynical divorce attorney, Emma Swan's ordinary world is challenged by the arrival of Killian Jones; a dashing yet seemingly unprepared young man claiming to be the lost prince of an unknown, fairy tale land. There's just one problem. Emma doesn't believe in magic, or love. CS AU, based on the movie of the same name.
1. Chapter 1

**Note**: I shall see you at the bottom for a detailed author's note, but I wanted to thank the beautiful and crazy **CS fandom on tumblr** for urging me to write this. You all know who you are ;)

* * *

_Once upon a time, there lived a young woman, whose heart had forgotten to love,_

_From an unforgotten past wrapped tightly in iron-clad armour and walls of rust._

_Once upon a time, there lived a young prince, whose heart yearned for more,_

_But dark forces conspired against him, and turned his dreams into fire and dust._

_This is their story._

* * *

A _simple_ case, they said.

_You'll be out in no time, don't worry_, Graham had dismissed her worries with.

Just your average uncontested divorce seating.

Instead, Emma Swan had been faced with two goddamn incredibly ignorant and immature late-teen divorcees playing a game of tug and war that she really wasn't in the mood for.

Thomas and Ella.

Or the _blonde duo from hell,_ as Emma now dubbed them; crossing over an exceptionally busy set of traffic lights on the corner of Greenwich Street.

Late-afternoon New York greeted her with its usual noisy crowds and ever-oppressing heat; with it being damn well hot enough to start a heat wave, Emma thought dryly. A welcoming scent of cheap hotdogs and burgers from a nearby stand, and salted popcorn next door, blended with the familiar cool, sharp air of New York, and despite that morning's hell, she smiled.

Life as a divorce attorney was far from glamorous, but the young woman's life was indeed, good.

And as Emma quickened her stride to round another crowded street bursting with arrays of colours and aromas and busying passer-bys, her smile only grew. Large slabs of grey granite flecked with white and black encircled an incredible, stone female ballet dancer in mid-poise. The figurine's leg was elegantly raised in arabesque form, and Emma's eyes flickered across the stone woman's serene face. She quietly searched for a sign of life amongst the dead eyes.

Nearly every day she had come across the fountain, but Emma had never quite noticed the incredible detail before today. Etched, jewelled rings on carefully stretched fingers. A few dark freckles on top an architecturally sloped nose. Even a small inscription written in what appeared to be Latin encompassed one of the dancer's singular, long legs.

Emma took a quick glance at her watch. It read; **4:08**, but after a careful sweep around the large area, Emma could see no school bus, or excited post-school children for that matter. No brown-haired young boy with a beaming smile and shining eyes desperate and pleading for just _one_ more story before bedtime.

_I always succumb to those damn puppy eyes,_ Emma thought fondly, though her mind unfortunately began to wander back to this morning's clients.

Perhaps it was the curse of a divorce attorney to never truly believe in love.

For Thomas and Ella, Emma could easily see how screwed they were from the beginning. _The parents were of no help at all_, Emma recalled with an eye roll. With antagonistic parents shunning their children's youthful love, Emma bit back the disappointment of seeing yet another relationship crumble under the pressure of outside forces.

It did little to sooth the young woman's scepticism towards modern romance.

However, as a yellow school-bus curled gently around the bend, Emma knew there was always one kind of love she could rely on.

A young boy with warm blue eyes and an easy smile laced with love only for her encouraged Emma's smile to blossom further. Henry's optimism was infectious and Emma frequently found herself reveling in her son's belief in hope within an oppressing world of negativity and chaos.

The young boy just never seemed affected.

If anything, her son not only accepted pain and anger as a part of life, but also used this as a reason to love everyone and everything that crossed his pathway.

It was all Emma had ever wanted. For Henry to grow up with hope.

Hope that she had never had.

Growing up in foster systems wasn't all evil step-mothers and poisoned apples for dessert. Though it was far from a fairy-tale in one of Henry's novels either, snobby kids and irritated carers were simply the only family that Emma had been graced with. It just wasn't the home Emma had craved.

And she'd never found it, until Henry.

Even Emma's shoulders, which were so often tense and squared with a determination for professionalism, automatically relaxed into a casual slope, and the slight breeze whipping long strands of blonde hair across the young woman's face only made her laugh. Emma squinted as the afternoon heat shone down and a shimmering light began to reflect off the bus' rearview mirrors and blinkers. She then took a few steps closer to the bus, amidst other parents and uncles and grandparents so that Henry could spot her easier.

"Mom!"

_Speak of the adorable devil._

"Hey, kid." Emma greeted with a carefree smile. She also couldn't resist leaning down to press a quick kiss on her son's forehead. "Good day?"

"It was great! One sec…" Henry tugged and produced a handful of loose pages out of his navy rucksack with a flourish. He excitedly waved them in front of Emma's face, causing the corners to gently brush the tip of her nose. "Here, look!" Her son grinned bashfully. "I finished another chapter today! Grace and I worked on it together at Lunch. Oh! And Mrs Lucas even said I could enter it into the creative writing competition at the end of the year if it's finished by then. "

"That's great, Henry." Emma encouraged, unable to hide the pride in her tone. Henry's imagination was borderline genius, and Emma had a strong feeling she's see her son's name in publishing before he even left home. His current project was 'top secret' and she'd been banned from reading it until it was completed. As they turned down a smaller avenue, Emma lovingly wrapped an arm around his shoulders as they began to walk home.

"Mom?" Henry piped up. "Is Walsh coming over tonight? I wanted to ask for his help on this new Science project our class got set today. It's due in a week and I have no clue. Grace wants to do-"

"You and Grace seem to be spending a lot of time together, huh?"

Emma grinned when Henry exaggeratingly grimaced, his smile twisting into a frown.

The young boy shrugged off Emma's arm and quickened his pace. "Gross." Henry muttered. "I do _not_ like Grace, mom."

"Sure you don't, kid."

"I don't!" He protested a little too forcefully. "Shut up."

The pair walked in companionable silence for a few moments and crossed over a few busy streets. As they turned the corner down the relatively large apartment complex on Ninth Avenue in which their own home resided, Henry seemed to reanimate and chirped up, "So…_is_ Walsh coming over later?"

Emma swallowed but didn't reply for a few moments.

Walsh was a wonderful guy. Smart, kind, caring and excellent with Henry. Anyone else would think Emma crazy for not snatching him up as soon as possible. But Emma wasn't as strong as Henry was in believing in magic and love. She believed in common sense and the occasional good luck. So yes, whilst Walsh was always sweet to her, and had never once rudely pushed her out of her comfort zone, there was something holding Emma back.

There was _always_ something holding Emma back.

It was that lack of faith in relationships that always prevented her own from ever succeeding. Thinking back to Thomas and Ella, Emma sadly concluded that there wasn't enough love in the world to prevent some form of obstacle or barrier from descending love into ruins. It was the harshest truth of reality.

_I'm not pessimistic, just a realist, _she quickly reminded herself.

Emma smiled apologetically at Henry. "You know what; I think he's out tonight." Henry's shoulders slumped slightly, and guilt tugged at Emma's heartstrings. _Damn puppy eyes_. "You can give him a call some other time, though, okay?" She added quietly.

And as Emma Swan pondered the inevitable failure of relationships, another world away; another was just about to begin.

* * *

"Is it customary to ride one's horse into a branch, young prince?"

"And is it customary to dare to address your prince in such blasphemous discourse, noble David?"

"I do when the prince - and only heir, may I add - is under _my_ humble protection." -came the somewhat disgruntled reply from a few meters behind.

Killian laughed at that, a free and loud expression that echoed across the forest. "Oh, hush. It caused a scratch and nothing more, my friend!"

As two expert riders dashed across the forest, they began to cross over from the smaller, modest kingdom of Andalasia into the green, luscious arms of the Enchanted Forest.

Scenery of soft clouds and tall, exotic trees enveloped most of the high-risen sun's morning light, though Prince Killian and Sir David needed no light to guide their way. This was a route most common to many knights and nobles. Especially once a month, at the monthly hunting parties led by a high lord and adviser to the Queen, Lord George.

Riding on further, Killian grinned as he leant forwards in his saddle; driven and urged on by the anticipation and thrill that riding always offered.

There was an element of magic in the way that the rhythmic clapping of hooves upon rough terrain sounded like a soothing lullaby to the prince's ears. Something in the sky, earth and heavens aligned to focus his mind and heart on whatever destination was set upon. It was enthralling. Killian had never quite succeeded in finding anything as satisfying as being seated upon his favourite horse, a dark chestnut beauty named William.

Leaving Andalasia behind was equally enjoyable.

Of all the five kingdoms in the realm he lived in, Killian felt his own kingdom to be the most oppressing. Bordering the Enchanted Forest, Andalasia was the smallest kingdom, but only by a slight margin. However, its ownership over the largest and well-equipped navy and ships at its disposals established it as a treasured and well respected kingdom to all. Killian enjoyed the safety and security within the grand, elegant crème and pale gold Andalasian palace; with its sloping curved turrets and surrounding moat.

Though it was that safety that suffocated the young prince.

Despite having fond relationships with both his parents, King Phillip and Queen Aurora, who were gracious and benevolent rulers, Killian's parents could not grasp their son's delight for adventures. True, they themselves threw balls and extended invitations to games and celebrations, but Killian deliberately sought out dangerous tasks and quests. His heart yearned for adventure as though he could not breathe until faced with mortal peril. Royalty was in his blood, but so was a perplexed desire for adventure. Frequently, Killian would journey across all five kingdoms in search of the latest and greatest evil to conquer. He'd fought troublesome giants and ogres and battled steel-armoured dragons. Four-headed lions and beckoning sirens; and even defeating fearsome pirates of every seas.

However, Killian was always reluctantly aware of his royal duties.

He'd been adamant and determined to educate himself in the ways of political correctness, kingdom alliances and social engagements. Understanding the five kingdoms took a little time. First, there was the Enchanted Forest, ruled over by the fiery Queen Regina. Secondly, of course, a little to the south was Andalasia. Then, further South was King Midas' kingdom of gold and treasure; a kingdom no man or woman dared to invade out of fear of being lost to the King's dreadful curse.

_Surprisingly_, Killian had thought humorously, _turned to gold is not high on, well, anyone's desired list_.

In the South-East lay the peaceful kingdom of Atlantica, led by the equally harmonious King Eric and Queen Ariel. Apart from the Enchanted Forest, Atlantica was Killian's second favourite kingdom. The surrounding crashing waves and high-ranged mountain peaks soothed him, and Ariel and Eric's invitations to stay never wavered.

Finally, The Dark One's kingdom lay in the South-West; the kingdom that Killian, or anyone else for that matter, knew littlest about.

He'd heard epic tales of a monstrous beast, or an evil wizard. Over many days, Killian overheard servants whisper, "_I think he's a demon."_, or, _"They say if you cross the Dark One, you lose your soul!"._ After that, Killian took his parents advice and stuck to the facts and forced himself to ignore the various exaggerated rumours.

The young prince had even grown up with a hunting partner, Sir David, who had been a close friend ever since they were able to walk, or more importantly, play fight and ride.

As of right now, Killian very much doubted that David enjoyed their frequent hunting participations.

"Can't keep up with my impeccable riding, my friend?" Killian playfully called out over his shoulder, tossing his friend a quick flash of a teasing grin.

"I'm afraid, your highness," David's reply was an equally friendly quip, ", that your ego demands me to leave a large gap between us." Killian laughed when David let out a muffled yelp, likely caused by another low-hanging branch. "Alas, I cannot budge it. Believe me, I have tried and failed on numerous callings!"

Killian happily threw his head back and laughed once more, and a few moments later, David joined in. "Oh, the shame."

"I agree, my prince. "

As their laughter faded into the breeze, Killian and David rode side by side for a minute or two until the forest opened into a large clearing in which an impressive castle rose before them.

It was sizeable, at least one hundred meters tall, but also somewhat monstrous. A pyramidal base of dark grey walls rose in sharp slopes to collide in a singular point in a threateningly cold pinpoint. It was as though it was constructed by metallic icicles. However, there was hidden beauty if you knew where to look, and Killian looked upon them now. Small, stone balconies graced each floor, offering a splendid view across the grassy hills, mountains and the shimmering Lake Nostos in the distance. A wall of glistening marble surrounding the castle, as well as tiny diamonds encrusted along the turrets.

Killian let out an appreciative whistle. "The kingdom awaits us."

"That it does." David replied, pulling his horse up close to Killian; head tilted in admiration up at the tall castle. "It gets me every time." After a few more moments, David added, "We should ride on. Sir George is hardly known for his forgiveness of tardiness."

"Indeed, he isn't." With a short nod of his head, Killian shot David another grin. "Excellent thinking."

David returned the gesture and winked, "Someone has to be."

Laughing with ease, the two men spurred their horses on towards the castle in a slow gallop pace.

* * *

Half an hour later and the hunting party was most likely forming outside the grand iron gates of the Queen's castle.

Killian, however, had decided to go for a quick leisurely ride beforehand.

He claimed to David, George and the other men and women gathered to hunt that it cleared his mind, but really it was sheer pleasure. And the isolation of the forest provided relaxation before an engaging hunt.

Killian did enjoy the hunts. Many knights, nobles and even simple peasants and villagers were welcome. Queen Regina was less accepting of commoners, but her adviser, Sir George was not a man driven by status or power. The older man simply smiled and offered invitation to any with a horse or hunting weapons. And together, the hunting party would chase chimera and other winged beasts until their hearts grew weary and tired. Then they would retire to a splendid feast for that evening.

It was never about the game itself, but often about the hunt and chase.

Killian disliked capturing such peaceful creatures as chimera. He'd come across various forms and none had acted as the offence. He grew uncomfortable when certain knights boasted of their game killings, and often politely excused himself to the palace gardens or his own chambers to escape.

Once or twice, Killian had bumped into the Queen's daughter. The princess, Milla; a charming, dark-haired woman with a tongue rehearsed in both formal and casual manner. They had engaged in conversation occasionally in the gardens, and Milla often spoke surprisingly freely compared to her mother's icy exterior. Killian enjoyed her company with fond ease. Milla was relaxed and bright in spirit, and had once or twice joined the hunting party. Though she too never slayed so much as a hair on a single creature.

But there was always something missing in their talks.

Perhaps it was simply their kingdom's distance that disallowed a connection. Or the uneasy feeling that Killian sensed in Milla that she was anticipating something he could never offer. Whether that was safety or a whirlwind romance, he was sadly, unaware. But also, sadly, Killian knew that love was not a gift he had the pleasure of offering the spirited princess.

Shaking thoughts of princesses and duties from his mind, Killian revelled in his own wishes. Freedom. The singular thing just out of reach to the prince. True, riding brought him close to such freedom. But it was only temporary. Disgruntled, Killian exhaled with a familiar disappointment. If only he was as equally free as the tiny winged birds that now hovered above the skyline.

_What I wouldn't do to possess a pair of chimera wings_, he thought dryly.

Although, he realised suddenly, it was not duties and responsibilities that burdened him. But it was the fear of loneliness and isolation that Killian identified in both Milla and Queen Regina's carefully cool gazes. They were lonely, as the young prince feared he might be one day. If only there was someone out there; a love waiting for his arrival.

_Surely there is,_ Killian considered hopefully. A quick tap of his heel against William brought the horse into a slow walk. _She could be waiting for me right now. I must not give up hope just yet. _He decided, though his gathered optimism was strained and forced.

_Perhaps, even, she is right around the corner…_

Suddenly, a prickle of fear spiked Killian's senses as he came to a halt amidst a small clearing. It jolted him from any previous thoughts. Tiny hairs stood up along his arms as his right hand came to a tense rest on the hilt of his sword. What in Heaven's name was causing such a reaction? The prince looked around for a few moments, eyes narrowed. But he was only greeted by green land, towering trees and…

"Please, NO!"

_There_.

Spun on by the frightened cry, Killian quickly turned William around a small grouping of trees to reveal a large stone well where two figures stood before it. Forcefully pressed with her back painfully taunt against the marble wall, Milla looked terrified; the princess' eyes wide and mouth open in mid-scream. Even from a few feet away, Killian noted her trembling arms pinned against the stone.

But it was the smaller, gleeful figure holding Milla down that caused Killian a moment's fear. Attired with a dark pants and a blood red jacket, the man's – or more specifically – beast's – sleeved was pulled upwards to reveal strange, reptilian skin. One hand was tightly curled around Milla's wrist, and Milla's tiny gasp confirmed her pain. As the man turned, Killian bit back his own gasp.

The _eyes_.

Reptilian, green-grey and narrowed like the sharp slant of a dragon's burning gaze. Killian started for a heartbeat, frozen mid-ride. He'd heard the rumours, of course, and read the tales too. But seeing the Dark One up-close and personal sent fear cascading into Killian's heart.

Nethertheless, as soon as momentary shock began to fade, Killian forced himself to dismount from William and quickly withdrew his sword as confidently as possible. He then rushed forwards, desperately ignoring the painful loud thumping of his heart and the breathless nature of his exhales. His feet felt wooden, as though they had not been carved with curves. Although Killian was unsure whether this was a threat in itself, he remembered duel training and cleared his throat. _Rule number one, always address your opponent. _

"I am Prince Killian of Andalasia." Fortunately, his voice rang clear and loud. "I demand to know who dares harm a princess."

If anything, the Dark One simply looked amused at the prince's threat. Removing his scaly hand from around Milla's wrist, the strange man grinned to reveal scratched, sharp teeth before sweeping into a mocking, formal bow. "Rumplestilskin. At your service."

"Step away from the princess." Killian demanded as he clearly wielded his sword in the Dark One's direction.

Throwing Milla, who had established a sensible distance from the conflict behind the well, a knowing smirk, Rumplestilskin lifted his chin and squared the young prince with growing amusement. "Well, well, well, would you look at this, princess? Your hero has arrived. What a surprising turn of events."

The Dark One laughed; a gleeful, child-like laughter that chilled Killian's blood.

Without wanting to draw further attention to the threat of being on the Dark One's violent side, Killian lowered his sword slightly. "Leave and this shall be forgotten." He offered. Perhaps it was not the more heroic cause of action, but it was the pathway that seemed to prefer survival. And right now, the young prince suspected it was what both he and Milla desired.

"I hardly doubt that." Rumplestilskin cocked his head slightly, running his gaze curiously over Killian. "But your twisted pathway is one I do not wish to end before its time."

And then with another high-pitched laugh, the Dark One disappeared into a whirlwind of jade smoke.

Little did Killian know that the Dark One spoke the truth.

The young prince's pathway had only just begun.

* * *

**A/N:** Hello, all.

I hope you enjoyed the first chapter, it should serve as an introduction to both Emma and Killian and their different lives.

I found it greatly easier to write Emma, than Killian without turning him into, well, a pompous ass of a prince. So, I've been wishing to write this fic since forever. Enchanted is one of my all-time favourite movies and CS seems to fit it perfectly, so…voila!

And the beautiful and crazy CS fandom on tumblr has been amazing in urging me on to write. Oh, and as of now, all my exams are finished for the summer so I can finally dedicate more time to writing.

As for updates, I'll aim to update at least once a week, but as always, it varies on the muse and inspiration.

_Also, if there are any complications:_

**Killian = Giselle (yes, you are allowed to laugh for a few moments)**

**Emma = Robert (cue laughter)**

**Walsh = Nancy.**

**Milla =? **(Anyone care to venture a guess?)

Oh, and bonus points if you can guess who **David is in the story.**

On another side note, if any of you guys have any questions or queries about this fic; give me a message on ff. Or if you prefer, you can also find me on tumblr under, '_captainkillyswan'_ where I frequently live ;)

Until next time, my lovelies.

**P.S.** Song inspirations for this chapter; _Lauren Kasen – Same Heart, Tom Odell – Hold Me (acoustic) and Kodaline – All comes down._


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** The response has been incredible, thank you all for your reviews/followers.

Also, some of the dialogue is inspired and/or taken from the series. I wanted to keep Walsh and Emma's story similar to the show. So, all rights go to Adam and Eddy for similar dialogue, and of course, the characters.

Enjoy!

* * *

"Why the hell should you get the apartment? That's ridiculous. You've never worked a damn day in your life to pay for it! All you did was doe-eye your daddy's piggybank-"

_Ouch. _Emma hid an eye roll at that nasty remark.

However, her client's reply was far from amused. "How dare you?!" Ella snapped, aghast.

Opposite the pair of women, Thomas leant back in his chair and shrugged. "You know I'm right." He muttered.

"Well…you haven't either! My father _kindly_ paid for that apartment. It belongs to _me_ now, not you."

As the argument raged on, Emma checked her watch for the third time that hour. She noticed that only ten minutes had passed since the last time she'd checked, and silenced a groan.

_God give me strength. _

The recurring urge to slap some maturity into the divorcees overwhelmed the young woman.

_This is supposed to make you happy for God's sake. _

"Of course, you have to win everything, isn't that so, _wife_?"

"Not for long, _husband_."

_Seriously, I dare you to act more childish-_

"Well, Ms Swan? The apartment belongs to me, is that correct?"

Taking a moment to fake-search through stacks of legal documents, Emma allowed a few seconds to regain professional composure.

She looked at Ella, then over at Thomas. Both seemed strained and tense, though not for the obvious reasons. Yes, their anger was aimed at each other, but she sensed a hidden sadness and disappointment as well.

Reading people was an attribute Emma Swan had acquired from a young age. Lies, white lies, hidden agendas. She'd seen through most. Henry called it her 'superpower' and that always made Emma smile.

"Look," She began calmly. "We're getting a little off track here, so I'm about to suggest another option for you both. Before you respond, think it over, alright?"

In heavy silence, Ella and Thomas looked across at one another. Then both nodded.

"The facts are this; _neither_ one of you legally paid for the building. And no, just because your father did owes you no favours or entitlements, Ella." Emma was quick to add. "So,"

_The moment of truth_.

"If you wouldn't mind, an equal 50/50 split of the property would be considered the best option-"

Both Ella and Thomas interrupted at once;

"That isn't fair! He didn't-"

"There has to be another way-"

Disappointment buried its way into Emma's mind, and she hid her discouraged spirit once more.

* * *

_Damn it, damn it, damn it!_

"Please still be waiting." Emma muttered under her breath. "Please. Be. Waiting."

Though it was hardly her fault that Thomas and Ella had bickered until closing time.

If it helped at all, she knew that Walsh would happily excuse her tardiness. Emma, however, still hated rushing. Dashing across the road, the rushing woman continued to mutter to herself and quickly push through small and larger crowds in a desperate attempt to reach her destination. Finally, she reached an elegant gold and red themed restaurant entrance. Two waiters dressed in smart Italian suits surveyed her breathless nature in quiet interest.

One, a dark-haired mid-forties gentleman, cleared his throat rather pointedly and asked, "Can we help you, ma'am?"

"Uh, yeah."

Now that she was outside, Emma realised the wind's ghastly effect on her once-styled curls.

And judging by the entrance door's reflection, she appeared to be straight out of a horror movie. No, not the protagonist with perfect hair, but rather the frizzy sidekick with no self-pride or class.

At least she'd had time to change into her favourite black, leather dress and clasped a tiny silver chain around her neck. Emma held up a hand and met the gaze of both waiters with an apologetic smile. "Give me a second." She quickly raked a hand through her knots, ridding them as best as she could. After a moment, Emma surrendered with a sigh. She attempted to appear respectable to the two men and stood a little straighter.

_I doubt that's possible now._

"I…have a reservation for two." Emma managed. "It should be under 'Gorham'." She added helpfully.

After giving her another once-over, the older waiter scanned his eyes down the reservation list. He offered a curt nod. "Table number 3, ma'am. Your dining partner was here a while ago."

_Oh, hell. _

Emma grimaced, ducked past the waiters and muttered a quick, "Thanks.", before disappearing through the door.

Her mood changed almost instantly as she glanced around.

The interior was as beautiful as Emma remembered. With an elegant scheme of crimson and gold, the restaurant had an almost old-fashioned 1920s jazz-age feel. Tropical plants of lime green, teal and spring brightly decorated corners and tables with joy. Tiny gold lights hung from crystallised chandeliers like a thousand pixies, and Emma itched to reach out and trail her fingertips against their small surfaces.

There was also appeal in the handsome young man smiling up at her from a nearby table.

"I'm sorry I'm late." Emma apologised as she approached the table. She warmed at the sight of Walsh standing to greet her with a growing smile and a twinkle in his warm gaze. He leaned forwards and brushed a quick kiss against her lips, and she allowed herself a moment to happily return it.

Walsh took a step to the right, now standing behind her, and helped Emma shrug out of her jacket. She thanked him graciously with a smile as they both took their seats together.

Reaching for the discarded menu, Walsh let out a relieved laugh. "I thought you were going to bail for a moment."

"Do you really have that little faith in me?" Emma teased.

"Of course not." Walsh grinned in reply. "Now, let's eat. I'm practically starved because of you!"

* * *

"No, I'm serious! I'm full. Really, I don't think I can eat another bite."

"Oh, go on. How about we order one plate, then we can share? How does that sound?"

"Fine." Emma caved in, and Walsh smiled in good nature. She quickly held up a finger in warning. "But you'd better not leave me to eat the whole damn thing on my own." She told him playfully.

"I promise."

"Hm."

Walsh laughed again. "I promise!"

A quiet mood washed over Emma, and despite the frequent stress and fears of life, she relaxed.

Being in Walsh's company was easy. And for Emma, that meant a great deal more than she could ever fully say to him. Instead, she smiled warmly and quietly watched Walsh go after the young man excused himself for a moment to the restroom.

Perhaps this was someone she could be with. Someone who not only accepted her, but offered security, safety and…love.

If she accepted it, that is.

_There'll always be a part of me waiting for something to go wrong, won't there? _Emma thought sadly. It was a thought that haunted her.

No_, he_ haunted her.

Not Walsh, _him_.

And Emma simply couldn't shake the past, for it clawed and begged to be remembered.

_How can Walsh accept every part of me if he doesn't even know every part?_

"Emma?"

She returned to reality with a start to find a worried Walsh looking at her. His brow furrowed, etched with concern.

"Oh. Sorry, miles away." She dismissed his concern with a quick wave of a hand. "It was nothing."

Surprisingly, Walsh pressed further, but still gently, "If you're sure..."

Emma nodded. "I'm sure."

At that moment, a young female waiter with beautiful auburn hair addressed the table. "Your dessert. Sir, ma'am." She said with a bright smile. Emma suddenly noted the way her gaze kept flickering across to Walsh secretively. It was as though there was some hidden agenda within the dessert...

_Oh_.

_Hidden agenda, indeed._

Emma extended her arm to push the china plate around with a shaking hand.

She was often an expert at concealing emotion, but not at this moment. Right now, she was unable to even attempt to hide the surprise she felt gripping at her mind, and heart. The plate seemed to grow larger and larger as Emma stared at the glistening, silver ring planted inside a circle of strawberry sauce.

Her jaw fell painfully open. The expression, 'frozen in fear' was definitely appropriate at this moment, as Emma's shock had quite literally rendered her speechless and still. It was half a minute at least before she moved.

Even then, it felt laboured and unreal. "Walsh…" Emma tried to speak but found her voice barely audible. Though she avoided her partner's gaze, Emma could still feel it. She pushed back growing fear and tried again, slowly, "Walsh, I…"

"Emma, wait." Walsh mercifully interrupted. She was incredibly thankful for his unusual decision to take over.

After all, focusing on breathing seemed like the best option for now.

"I know you're surprised, but before you speak, let me say something first." Walsh began, kindly reaching out to hold her hand in his. Tiny, clear beads of sweat began to form inside her palms as Emma dared to look across to find his loving gaze on her face.

"I love you, Emma." He spoke again, this time, softly. "I love you, and Henry, and the pair of you are important parts of my life. Now, we've been together for two and a half years because I know you. I know you wanted to take things slow, and we have. I never once wanted to push you into anything so if you're not ready for this, I won't bring it up again. I promise you that. " He breezed on, and Emma noticed the forced casualness of his tone. It was that over-casual manner that had a sense of rehearsal. "But part of me believes, and hopes, that you love and trust me too. So…I wanted to test it with asking you to marry me."

_Well, there it is. No going back now_.

Another moment's silence granted Emma time to think.

Or at least attempt to form a reasonable thought. All she was being offered was a clenching stomach and eyes ready to water. Though with happiness or fear, she was unsure.

Fear had never felt so painful before. But as of now, it gripped and demanded Emma to consider Walsh's proposal with discomfort. Being unprepared terrified the young woman, and all Emma wanted to do was flee from the restaurant without another word and run and run until she reached her apartment to greet a bashful young boy waiting for her return.

Thinking of Henry, most likely playing video games or reading or writing, began to push away the fear. So Emma closed her eyes, and simply breathed for a few moments, concentrating on building a slow rhythm.

_What I'm not going to do is freak out and panic._

Or think of him. No, thinking of _him_ would definitely not serve as a good idea.

_I'm a grown woman, _Emma stubbornly reminded herself,_ I can handle a proposal, damn it._

The ring seemed to grow brighter and brighter as she stared. It swallowed her heart and screamed commitment, ties, pain and pushing away the fear took at least another minute.

When she did speak, Emma's words were carefully spoken in the calmest manner she could muster up. She closed her hand around Walsh's and squeezed it with the smallest of encouragement. "Walsh, I…I need some time. Please. "

Walsh didn't even look disappointed. "I know.", was his casual reply. Even his adoring smile refused to waver, and Emma felt guilty for his kindness towards her. There was no justification of why Walsh chose to stick by her. If someone gave Emma a thousand nights to offer reasons, she'd think of very few.

_I have to give him something else, just something. _

"Thank you."

"Emma, it's okay. Take all the time you need." Walsh gestured to a nearby waiter for the cheque with a short nod before adding, "Give my best to Henry?"

"Of course." Her smile was easy this time around.

As the cheque was placed on the table, Emma stared down at the ring. It seemed to burn with a singular question that Emma wasn't willing to answer. Not currently, anyway. As if sensing her uncertainty, Walsh closed the distance and scooped the ring off her plate and into his hand. He placed it in the inner pocket of his jacket with a sheepish smile. "I'll keep a hold of this for you."

"Thanks." Emma repeated, unsure of what else she could say.

The distance between them had multiplied, and as they left the restaurant and parted separate ways, Emma felt more alone than ever before.

* * *

"So, mom, what did you say?"

"Hm?"

"You know, to Walsh." Henry pressed. He refused to look away from the TV screen, thumb and fingers moving with intent. "What did you say? What was your answer?"

Emma was perplexed now. _Did he mean...?_

"How...how did you know, kid?"

Henry tore his eyes away from the screen long enough to roll them. "Oh, come on. I'm eleven years old, mom. I know the signs; same first date place, alone, your shifty look. It was pretty obvious, you know."

Emma gaped. "I am _not_ being shifty."

"Sure you aren't. Oh, no! LOOK OUT." Henry's train of thought was broken by his on-screen character's sudden death. "Why didn't my wizard move?! This sucks. I pressed X on repeat. This is so unfair! Now I have to start the whole level all over again."

Emma hid a smile behind her hand and reached for the second controller on the counter table. "Do you mind if a level five wizard joins you?"

A sigh came from Henry as he looked across at his mom. "Yeah, just don't get killed again, okay?" There was a teasing glint in his bright eyes. "I'm not saving you this time."

"Hey, you saved me that one time, kid. Doesn't make you my saviour anytime soon."

Henry laughed. "Mom, you didn't even _try_ to run!"

"I thought he would poof out the way or something wizard-y, you know." Emma protested.

Henry rolled his eyes again and shook his head. Emma's heart gave a happy lurch at the familiar comfort.

"Right." Her son quipped. "So, what _did_ you say to Walsh?"

This time, Emma's heart lurched with a guilty ache. Unable to indirectly lie to her son, she remained quiet for a little while and focused on playing the game and improving her atrocious skills as an amateur wizard.

Henry, however, refused to let her silence slide. "Poor guy." He murmured.

"I didn't exactly say no."

"But you didn't say _yes_, did you? So, yeah, I stand by my 'poor guy'."

Emma sighed, avoiding a magic fireball on-screen. "Can you blame me?" She asked. "It's a big decision after all. I just needed some time to think about it, that's all. Walsh knows that."

"Does he?" Henry retorted. If she didn't know any better, Emma would think he sounded amused.

"Of course he does, kid."

As they came to the half-way point on the level, Emma paused the game and turned towards Henry on the settee. "Henry, would _you_ be okay with it? If I said yes, I mean." Her son tilted his head slightly. "Would you be alright with Walsh joining our family?"

Henry chewed his lower lip for a few moments before nodding. "He's okay, yeah."

"That didn't sound too convincing. Want to try again with more enthusiasm?" Emma gave a short laugh, but her heartbeat began to increase. If her son had a problem, it was Emma's first priority. Henry simply shrugged. His eyes stayed glued to the screen as he waited for the level to load.

However just when she thought he wasn't going to speak, Henry suddenly hit pause on the game and turned on the sofa to look up at his mom. He mirrored Emma's positioning on the sofa and casually rested his legs on top of hers. Emma was surprised, and slightly amused by the serious look that often came with wise, old age experience now visible in her young son's eyes. She wondered what sweet wisdom she was going to be graced with tonight.

"Mom, stop looking for excuses."

She blinked. _Excuses?_

"You're looking for excuses, aren't you?" Henry continued quietly. His eyes grew distant. "Because of what happened…with my dad."

Emma swallowed in surprise. "Oh, Henry, I…"

"No, mom, please, you should know this."

Henry bit down on his lower lip again before continuing. "Walsh is _not_ my dad. What happened to him was, well, it was a really long time ago, right?" He said uncertainly. "And…I know that Neal would want you to be happy. I know he would, mom. "

During another pause, Emma noted that her son's eyes were now hopeful. "And…I want you to be happy too. So if Walsh makes you happy, and I think he does, then you should say yes. You deserve to be happy. Stop looking for excuses that something is going to go wrong. They're not. We're together, and we can be a family still. It's okay to accept that things are good every once and a while, mom. I believe they are."

Emma knew with a dull ache that Henry was right.

His father _had_ been the accidental cause of the many walls around Emma's heart, whether they were intentional or not. It wasn't his fault, of course. Though be it deliberate or not, Emma still felt that warded pain nearly every day. That sensation that happiness wasn't in her reach. And that it never would be.

But perhaps Henry was right in his claims that Walsh could be the man to help break down those dreaded walls. If anyone could, it was Walsh.

_Sweet, dependable and loving Walsh, _she thought lightly.

If Emma was entirely truthful, there was something else missing.

If she was honest, there was some part of Emma that silently prayed Walsh would give her an excuse to pull away. A dodgy ex. An unexplained corner of his past. Or perhaps an obscure hidden secret identity as an FBI agent. Anything that would cause warning signs to go flashing off.

Instead, Walsh was practically perfect. He was realistic, ordinary and stable. He was just what she craved…

_…wasn't he?_

Shaking that thought away, Emma happily focused on her son again. Throat tight with thick emotion over his words, Emma's eyes began to water, both from memory and love for the young boy sitting beside her.

Was it possible to have been gifted with such a wonderful child?

"I love you, Henry." She whispered, and Henry's watery smile mirrored his mom's. She reached forwards and wrapped her arms around him, glad for both the physical and emotional relief his words and touch offered.

When they pulled away, Henry reached for the game console and leaned back into her arms.

Emma smiled into his mop of brown hair. "So, when did you get so wise, kid?"

"Let's see. Around the same time I became a level fifty knight!"

"Is that so?"

"Uh huh. I became a knight and suddenly knew _alllll_ the secrets of the universe. And…had loads of treasure. That helps."

She smiled and kissed the top off his head. "Well, you're my knight in shining armour."

"Mom, you're distracting me!" Henry cried, ducking away from her kiss. He threw his hands up as 'game over' appeared on the screen.

"Oh dear. Well, even knights need their sleep. Come on. It's off to bed for you, kid."

"Fine. Goodnight, mom. I love you."

"I love you too, Henry."

As she tucked her son into bed, despite Henry's claims of being a 'mature young man' – which only made Emma laugh – she decided to call Walsh in the morning to arrange dinner the following evening. She would make a decision.

Then, tomorrow evening, possibly make the greatest achievement, or mistake, of her life…

* * *

"I firmly believe this could be the greatest achievement for our kingdoms yet!"

"Or the biggest mistake."

"Just…consider the proposal." Killian protested, impatiently curling his fingers around the round table.

He, Milla, David and the rest of the emergency council had gathered in the large throne room at once. The meeting had lasted twenty minutes already, thanks to David's unwillingness to accept the proposed alliance that Killian was now presenting.

All the young prince wanted, and needed, was David's support. He _wanted_ his old friend's encouragement, but he _needed_ another knight or noble to accept the deal on behalf of Andalasia. Without it, the marriage and alliance would fall through. Sir George, Sir Jimmy and Milla's godmother, Lady Ruby had already stated their approval on behalf of the Enchanted Forest, but David's approval was still necessary.

So when Milla, who was seated opposite her potential fiancé offered an encouraging nod, Killian tried again. "Listen, my friend. Both Princess Milla and I believe that it could benefit Andalasia and the Enchanted Forest. It will unite our people under the threat of the Dark One. Who knows whether the ogre rise in the North is part of his attack or simply a coincidence, but it is clear that both our people need hope in such dark times. And an alliance between us would serve as an excellent force of unity and hope."

David paused, mid-pace around the table. "The strength of this kingdom's army combined with our own naval army would be grand." He admitted.

Sir George and Lady Ruby nodded.

"If you are on my, _our_ side," Killian quickly corrected. ", then the sooner we can announce the alliance to the Queen and to our kingdoms."

David began to pace again. There was something grating at his thoughts. Killian could tell by his friend's inability to stand still. David finally paused beside Milla. "Your Highness." He addressed slowly. "What say you of this …alliance? Are you quite certain of it?"

"It was my own suggestion, Sir David." Milla replied coolly, returning David's wariness with an equally cool gaze. Her expression was somewhat vacant but her brown eyes hinted at a hidden fierceness approaching the surface. "The Dark One threatened my kingdom, and I do not take such threats lightly." Milla's gaze narrowed. "He claimed that we were weak, and I disagreed. And I do so enjoy be proven correct."

For a moment, Killian smiled with respect for the striking princess. He would be proud to extend friendship and marital alliance to Milla. It had already been decided that they would never truly love each other, but the pair both understood duty and responsibly to their kingdoms.

There was a moment's silence, and David looked around the table at the handful of gathered lords and ladies. They'd considered awaiting the Queen's arrival but her private chamber guards had warned any who approached that the Queen did not wished to be disturbed. Killian and Milla had no choice but to construct an alliance without her. Milla had also brushed aside Killian's concern and decided to deal with the consequences later.

Little did they know that the consequences would be rather deadly.

However no one would even need to consider the Queen's wrath if David refused to submit to the alliance.

Pride and uncertainty was still visible in the young knight's gaze, but the usual playful glint was beginning to resurface back in David's eyes. Killian wondered if perhaps his friend had been too shocked by the Dark One's actions to even consider retaliation towards such a powerful man. After all, the Dark One rarely showed himself. David must have felt unnerved before suggesting a unity against such a powerful wizard.

"So, my friend?" Killian stood from his seat and took a step forwards to extend a hand to David. He held his breath before asking, "Will you accept this alliance on behalf of the kingdom of Andalasia?"

There was another pause, and everyone around the table lingered on the two men.

David grasped his friend's hand tightly in his own. "I do." He grinned at the prince and playfully added, "Let's do this."

* * *

"How _dare_ those lowly peasants form allegiances behind _my_ back? Do they know who I am? Why was I not informed, I am their _Queen_." With lasting emphasis, Regina angrily swept an arm against the glowing orb. She sent it soaring through the air and crashing into the nearest wall, its vision spell now shattered. Sharp shards of glass began to echo against the dark, marble floor.

Though the image causing such deadly wrath may have disappeared, the Queen's rage had not.

"I beg forgiveness!" A nearby voice cried out as Regina stalked away from an object-covered table. The man's voice came from neither person nor animal but from a magical mirror resting against the Queen's dresser table headboard. "I am terribly sorry, your Majesty." The voice trembled with fear now. "I was…I was told by your guards that you didn't want to be disrupted-"

"Excuse me?" The Queen snarled. It was a deadly, animalistic quality that rose with anger. "Are you saying that this is _my_ doing?"

The mirror practically squealed in response, "N-no! The fault is all mine, your Majesty. All mine." He spluttered. "I should've…I should've informed you. You trusted me, and I failed you."

Regina paused, chin raised in the highest display of authority and power. "Yes, you did." She admitted. "Nethertheless, I still have great need of your powers." Her darkened lips pulled into a twisted smirk. The Queen knew that all she even needed to do was raise her voice to assert power these days. The Kingdom knew correctly to not only fear, but respect their powerful Queen.

Though apparently, her own daughter did not.

"All she had to do was stay unmarried." Regina hissed as she began to pace once again. "How difficult was that, hm?"

The mirror was quick to sympathise, "Not difficult at all, my Queen."

"There is no way I can control the throne if my stubborn daughter marries that idiot of a prince. I must keep her isolated and under my control." She grew angry at the thought of Killian beside Milla on _her_ throne and dug elegant, long nails into her palms sharp enough to draw blood. "That prince will bring Andalasia with him into my kingdom." A coy smile flirted at the edge of her lips. "And I would so hate to slaughter an _entire_ kingdom unless it can be avoided."

Realisation to her problems suddenly hit the Queen. "Why did that _imp_ threaten my daughter, or more importantly, my kingdom?" She stormed. Regina glared over a low, silver arched balcony towards the land. Who was _he_ to create such a panic?

The Dark One's schemes worried Regina to the point of spontaneous action. And even the Queen herself was aware of the violence within her actions. Especially towards unforeseeable threats such as these.

"That damn fool must be called to answer for his crimes against my rule." She hissed, and slowly sauntered away from the balcony towards the centre of her chambers.

"I shall summon the Dark One at once, my Queen."

Regina smiled; a tight-lipped smirk now present. "That won't be necessary, my dear mirror." She closed her eyes for a moment and then cried, "Rumplestilskin, I summon thee!"

"You don't need to shout so loudly, dearie!"

As soon as the strange man spoke, Regina's eyes snapped open again. She quickly, and unforgivingly, locked her gaze on the Dark One. Dressed in dark leather pants, a brown coat and a smart dress shirt with laced sleeves, to an average onlooker, he merely looked smart and respectable. But to Regina, Rumplestilskin was the Queen's complex ally and threat all at once. He was powerful, which made the clever wizard a threat, but also a man worth having in the midst of battle and war.

However, right now, Regina was a split second away from murdering him.

If she truly _could_, that is.

"Tell me, why did you do it, hm?" The Queen snapped. She dominated over the strange man, hands curled against each hip as they pressed into the lavish, velvet material of her gown.

The Dark One simply cocked his head as he listened to the young woman.

"Threaten my daughter in such a…_subtle_ manner? I am well aware of your foresight powers. I know of their strength. But what's in it for you? What could you _possibly_ obtain from an alliance between Andalasia and the Enchanted Forest?"

Rumplestilskin smiled up at her in glee. "Worry not, this isn't a personal jibe. All good secrets come out in due course, my fiery Queen. "

An enraged scream echoed loudly around the chamber as Regina suddenly moved her hands up in an attack formation. The Dark One lifted into the air, and for a few moments, The Queen felt in control. Then the smaller man disappeared into a cloud of smoke, only to reappear across the other side of the room.

His giggle only infuriated the Queen. "You'll have to try a bit harder than that, dearie."

Regina threw her hands up again, this time in annoyance. "Tell me." She repeated stonily. Staring into the Dark One's narrowed eyes, Regina realised something else. "It was a set-up, wasn't it? You _knew_ that brainless prince would be riding in the forest yesterday." She spoke slowly as the Dark One's lips began to curl into a secretive smirk.

"There are countless paths, your Majesty. I am a simple pawn in the grand scheme of destiny. Your daughter's future is a rather…complex interest of mine." He admitted. "Consider her future an investment, if you will. After all, it wasn't I who chose to seek an alliance without her mother, and Queen's content, was it now?"

"You _bastard_." Regina growled. "Now why don't I believe you? You _knew_ the prince would be there. All you had to do was falsely threaten my kingdom and send my daughter into panic. For some twisted reason, you _want_ this alliance, don't you, Rumplestilskin?

The Dark One giggled again and began to circle around the Queen with a predatorily stalk. "Perhaps. Perhaps not. Who knows? No one knows. You don't know, but I know."

"Enough with you pathetic riddles and songs." Waving a hand in irritation, Regina scoffed. She was now bored of the petty attempts at threats. "It doesn't matter what your plans are. This alliance is not going to be made, I assure you. For whatever reasons you have in alliancing our kingdoms, it will not happen. This kingdom is _mine_. "

Rumplestilskin shook his head in bemusement. "And how are you going to do that, dearie?" He questioned. "You saw quite clearly that the marriage is under way. The _alliance_ too, is underway." He added spitefully. "There's nothing to be done. You've lost, your Majesty."

"You're wrong." Regina said, voice dropping to a dangerous low. She tilted her chin and allowed a hidden smile to pull at her red lips. "I haven't even _begun_. You'll see, Rumplestilskin, I won't stand for this. That half-wit will not take another step towards my throne."

This time, Rumplestilskin frowned slightly. He turned his attention directly towards the Queen. "What's to be done about it now, dearie?" Despite his attempts to hide it, The Dark One now paid careful note of her determination. "The wedding is tomorrow." He continued. "I'm afraid you've already lost."

Regina narrowed her eyes, "We shall see. A _true_ Queen never goes down without a fight."

With that, she purposefully swept out of the room...

* * *

It was difficult to find the whereabouts of giants these days.

For as the ogres were multiplying in numbers, many people within every kingdom wished to escape into new lands until the threat was diminished. Fortunately, Queen Regina had the power, and magic, to locate a single giant with a small farm of magic beans.

Anton had been less than willing to work for her at first, but persuasion was one of Regina's strengths. She demanded a handful of beans in return for the promise of protection. And true to her word, the Queen had cast a protection barrier around his farm as soon as the beans were in her possession.

Now standing inside one of her many hidden vaults around the kingdom, the Queen grew less enraged as she plucked a single bean off the bright stalk. She looked at it for a moment. Transparent, white-ish grey in colour, it seemed far from magical. But Regina was confident in its abilities.

"Let's put you to good use." She murmured, fingers closing around the object with delight.

_The prince had better be in for an unplanned wedding trip,_ she thought wickedly.

* * *

"David, no! An unplanned wedding trip would be a _disaster_. It's not going to happen, forget it."

"But it's my duty as your closest friend to ensure you at least have fun-"

Killian hid the childish urge to scowl. "Once again, no."

"Please, think about it-"

"Do you wish me to ban you from the kingdom, mate?"

David adopted a curious frown. "Can you even do that?"

"Of course I can." Killian muttered. "I'm a prince, remember?" He was half tempted to follow through on his threat.

"Huh."

"What else did my parents say?"

"Little else."

David had ridden out with another knight, Sir Lancelot, to inform Phillip and Aurora of their son's marriage. "Nothing problematic, your Highness." A cheery smile appeared on David' face. "They're proud of you. Very proud of you, my friend. As am I and the rest of the kingdom."

Rubbing a shy hand against the back of his neck, Killian shrugged, ignoring the slight blush in his cheeks. "Thank you. And they are riding out this evening, you say?"

"They'll be here for the wedding, Killian."

"I should hope so. It's tomorrow."

"Don't fret, everything will work out. I'm sure." David reassured, clapping a hand over his friend's shoulder.

Killian smiled gratefully though muttered, "Well, I'm glad someone is."

"Is there anything I can do for you?"

"No, that'll be all, David, thank you. Go relax and prepare for tomorrow." His lips quirked into a playful smile. "I need my best man to be well prepared, understood?"

David returned the grin and winked, "Of course, your Highness."

* * *

A little while later into the evening, the young prince received a strange message;

"She wants to meet me…now?" Killian repeated, incredulous. "In the forest? Are you _quite_ certain you heard the princess correctly?"

The young messenger shuffled his feet and stared down at the floor. "I am, my Lord." He murmured, and re-read the scroll. "Princess Milla invites you to meet where she first proposed in ten minutes. She notes it is urgent and she would not call you without good reason, Sir."

"Very well. You may take your leave, thank you." The prince replied slowly, still wary of such a bizarre request. Especially in the early evening before their wedding. Nothertheless, he closed the doors to his chambers and began to walk towards the stables.

_It must be important then, _he decided. It was worth finding out at least.

* * *

"Your Highness?" Killian called out, five minutes later.

He'd rushed out to the stables and quickly rode William out into the night without even saddling up the eager horse.

Nightlife echoed and called out to him. The small cries of tiny birds and a chill breeze played vividly on the prince's imagination. The longer he had time to think, the longer Killian began to think of terrible scenarios that Milla was going to say;

Perhaps another proposal had been made; therefore he would be forced to let down his kingdom, and family.

Or possibly Milla had decided they were over-reacting. Either way, the occurrence that it might be positive news never crossed Killian's mind.

However the idea that it could be a _trap_ also didn't cross his thoughts.

And that was Killian's true mistake.

"Your Highness!" He called out again. At that moment, the prince caught sight of a waiting figure by the stone well, their back turned away from his gaze; half shadowed by the night. Killian brought William to a slow walk before dismounting quickly. Ignoring his sword in its leather sheath, Killian rushed over. He frowned when Milla came into clearer focus.

The young princess was strangely dressed in an oversized, dark grey cloak, shielding away from the prince with caution, as though fearful of his approach.

Some dark force or magic was at play here, but Killian was unaware of the growing tension in his knotted stomach. He paid little attention to the flaws within the figure. If only Killian had looked closer, he would've noted the princess' height was inches too tall, and her once-slim figure was now defined by curves that could not develop over the course of a week since the council meeting.

Beneath the cloak, blood-red nails would've also alerted the prince to danger.

Alas, he took no notice.

Instead, the prince reached forwards with an extended arm, not wanting to cause his fiancée further fright. "Princess?"

Killian took another step closer. "Milla-"

Without warning, Milla suddenly flicked her wrists and held her palm outwards to reveal a small bean. She then carelessly tossed it into the well without sparing him an explanation or even a glance. At once, a burning white light began to inwardly consume the well. Killian leapt backwards, but not before reaching towards Milla to grip her arm and direct her to safety…

_Hold on, why did she_-

As the light continued to burn and swirl into a circular motion in the well below, Killian took a cautionary step backwards. He stared at the back of the figure's cloak. "Your…highness…?"

"Not quite." A low, female voice that was definitely not Princess Milla murmured.

The figure spun around in one quick, regal movement, and as the hood fell back, Killian was greeted with not Milla's, but the Queen's dangerous glare.

"It's your _Majesty_." She snarled in correction.

Before Killian had time to react, or to gather even a gasp of shock, the Queen flicked her wrist again, and his legs suddenly went out from underneath. He hit the ground with a painful thud and groaned, attempting to scrabble at the ground to regain standing.

"Nice try." Regina scoffed. The fearful prince yelped again as he felt a loss of free will. His body was then helplessly flung over the side of the well. This only left his tight grip on the rim preventing his fall. Regina loomed over the prince, and applied a ruthless pressure to his fingers. "Farewell, prince."

"Don't-!"

Pain shot through Killian's fingertips and reflexively, he released his grip.

Despite the light, the young prince was met by only surrounding darkness as he plummeted into a rapid descent.

* * *

Regina smiled widely as the prince fell into the darkness below.

"I'm afraid there will be no wedding tomorrow." She smirked down into the swirling light of the well.

"We'll see about that."

She whipped around once more and saw a fair-haired knight standing before her, sword drawn and eyes, sharp.

"Sir David!" Regina quickly managed to appear fearful. She forced her voice to squeak and pitched forwards to look below in the well. Gesturing to the bottom, she looked at David with wide eyes. "The prince fell into the well, I couldn't help him-"

"Do you think me a fool?" David cut her off suddenly. "I saw what happened." He took a careful step forwards, legs apart and arms lowered in a defensive battle stance. "Princess Milla sent me." She noted the hidden tremble in the knight's voice. "It turned out the letter was forged. She never wrote such a request."

"Oh?" Regina barely hid her contempt.

"But you did, your Majesty."

"It's of little importance now, isn't it?" She continued casually. When she moved forwards, David raised his sword. "I was hoping to avoid as few casualties as possible. But you have decided your own fate. " Regina smiled apologetically. "I truly am sorry, Sir David. Please understand that I hold you with the highest sympathies."

"For what?"

"_This_." Seizing opportunity, the Queen flicked her wrist for the third time that evening, and sent David following his prince into the bean's portal.

_Let's see how you survive in a world without magic._

She then waited for a few moments until the portal closed.

For good.

When its brilliant, glowing light faded into the night, Regina relaxed slightly. Though the next part of the plan simply required some finishing touches, only then would the Queen truly feel at ease.

"Guards!" She cried loudly, finding it surprisingly easy to seem believably afraid. The Queen even clutched at her stomach, as if visibly sick by what she had seen. As her plan invited, two guards rushed around the corner. The pair were dressed in the kingdom's attire of neat, silver armour and the royal crest of a dark red apple.

"Your Majesty," One addressed worriedly. "What happened? Are you hurt?"

"No, no…I, I'm fine. Really." Regina continued the charade for a few moments, passing time to assure no one else came along.

Both guards looked on in confusion. "Then…how can we assist you?"

She smiled sweetly now. "You can both _die_."

With a simple tightened fist, the two guards collapsed onto the ground at Regina's gesture. Darkness simmering inside the Queen's heart now leapt with joy. She relaxed her hand. Careful not to touch them, she then coated them with a visibly purple shroud of smoke. Once it cleared, Regina smiled, as did the darkness within. Both guards were now glamoured with the appearances of the prince, and the knight, Sir David. Only one would be able to see past the spell; Rumplestilskin, though she doubted he would risk it.

_Let's see if he dares challenge the Queen,_ Regina thought icily.

Looking down at the two bodies, Regina exhaled in relief. There was little doubt before, but now there was none.

She hovered over the unmoving men. "What a terrible, terrible accident." She cooed. Deep cuts, bruises and fresh, bloody wounds began to form on their skin as the Queen moved her hands across their bodies. "I never knew chimera were so…_deadly_."

It was a simple yet realistic frame. Chimera had been occasionally known for attacks, and Regina would easily mislay the false letter. Besides, the focus would assumedly be on the tragic death of Andalasia's one and only heir.

Regina had succeeded.

And once again, the kingdom was under her control. Milla was hers, as was the kingdom.

_And if someone attempts to steal it again, why more accidents will need to be arranged, _the Queen thought coldly. She swept her skirts around the two guards and began to saunter towards the castle. A dark and twisted smile blossomed as she walked.

It was time to inform Andalasia of their beloved prince's death.

* * *

**A/N:** So Regina is a bit of a cold hard bitch, huh?

I really enjoyed writing the different dynamics in this chapter; Emma/Henry, Rumple/Regina, and Killian/David. Although the focus will be on Killian/Emma soon, look out for a few surprising relationships as well.

If you can guess any, I'll give you a cookie...maybe.

_Oh, something to **clarify**;_ Rumple's intentions are still unknown. Regina may _think_ he wanted to break up the wedding, but…who knows?

**Teaser for the next chapter;** our two leads finally meet, Milla takes matters into her own hand, and guess who gets arrested during the first ten minutes?


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** Sorry this chapter took a little longer to write. See you all at the bottom :)

* * *

_Darkness_…

And then, a voice.

"Your Highness? Your _Highness_?"

-light.

Not the brilliant yet overwhelming light from the bean, but a small slither of light peeking out from behind half-closed eyes.

"KILLIAN! Come _on_."

That recognisable voice cried out again, shouting out from behind the light. Killian began to stir as the looming figure shook him roughly by the shoulders. He groaned and resisted the dull ache in his head.

"Wake up, Killian, damn you." It, or _he_, judging by the low tone, continued to shout and forcefully shake the prince. "Come on! I swear, if you don't get your royal arse up this instant-"

_Hold on_…

"David?"

Ignoring the croak in his voice, Killian rubbed his eyes and pushed away from the darkness clouding his vision. Wherever the pair had landed, the magic portal had taken them to wherever Regina desired. And somehow, Killian was _not_ eager to find out exactly just where they'd been sent.

"Thank the Gods." David muttered in relief. "You scared me…just for a moment, of course." He added quickly.

Killian smiled despite their misfortune. "Obviously. That wouldn't be why you were screaming like a madman in my ear?"

"You must have a concussion, my friend."

"Funny."

David grinned broadly. "I thought so."

"Now where the hell did the Queen send us?" Rubbing at his temples, Killian sat up and thought back to when the portal was opened. "Wait a moment, why did she send you through as well?"

"Well, your princess bumped into a very confused messenger not shortly after you left the palace. Turns out she never wrote a letter to you. " David explained. "Milla recognised the trap and sent me to go and fetch you. Unfortunately, I was too late. So the Queen sent me through to…wherever this is." He gestured off-handily. "I knew she was powerful, but never this powerful. I fear that we underestimated her."

"Aye, that we did. Nethertheless, we must find a way to return and warn the kingdom. The Queen must be stopped before it's too late."

"Let's hope that your fiancé is clever enough to figure it out, then. In the meantime, what do you say we find out where we are, hm?"

"Very well."

Only now did Killian fully take in their surroundings. It seemed they were in a low-lit tunnel. A strong and musky aroma of dirt and something else that Killian didn't really want to guess at overwhelmed his senses. The gentle lap of muddy water reached the top of their boots. Looking on further, the high arched circular structure stretched on and on, beyond the two men's range, but Killian had a feeling that it wasn't a place to stick around and make camp.

"I suggest we take this route." David called out a few feet behind.

Killian spun around and spied his friend waiting by a long, grey ladder with a proud look of a sailor who had successfully navigated beyond the stars. Trust David to find adventure in an unknown realm. The young knight tested the rungs one at a time before grinning down at his friend. "Let's go do some exploring."

* * *

As it turns out, the exploration was far from an adventure.

Especially when David began attacking and defending unamused civilians from the 'metal monsters' of New York City.

Killian later found out that these so called beasts were in fact 'cars', and were similar to carriages and carts in the five kingdoms. However, at a first glance, the strange oblong machines, which roared and howled with violent noise, attached themselves to the memories of villainous dragons back in Andalasia.

Therefore, David's decision to 'defend' the 'poor village folk' of New York City seemed appropriate…

...at the time.

According to passers-by however, it was an unusual sight to behold. Of course it was. A strange-looking man repeatedly stabbing the rooftops of Taxi cabs with his sword _was_ an eye-capturing scene. Even in New York, it was bizarre. And the people of the city had seen many weird and wonderful sights.

But this one topped them all.

"Stand back." David helpfully warned the many shocked and confused gatherers. "Do not fear; I am Sir David of Andalasia. I shall silence the beast!" He jumped amidst the traffic again and was greeted by busy squawks of angry beeps and swearing drivers.

"Get out of the road! What are you, nuts?!"

"What the hell are you doing? GET OFF MY TAXI, DUMBASS." The current victim of David's heroism was an elderly man with a surprisingly exotic vocab. "YOU'RE PAYING FOR THE DAMAGE, YOU BASTARD!"

Killian stood by the side, uncertain and transfixed by the surrounding bright lights and towering buildings. "David…I am unsure this plan is wise!" He shouted up.

"Nonsense." His friend quipped happily, thrusting his sword through the yellow roof of a cab. When it remained still, he grinned and stood triumphantly. "These peasants need our services." He swept into a customary low bow, and a few people jumped back to avoid David's sword arm. "You're welcome." He pronounced. "I am but a humble knight who will protect you kind village folk-"

One man stepped forward and angrily waved his umbrella with a threatening jab. "The only one we need protecting from is you, asshole!"

Killian winced as the man jabbed again. "I think we ought to go…David." He called to his friend, but realising that David had not heard him over the commotion, he raised his voice to a vividly loud cry. "This is not gaining us any favours, let's go."

"Freeze!"

_Oh, bloody hell._

David, however, in all his blind glory and newfound fame, didn't realise who they were addressing. He addressed the officers with a cheerful wave. "Finally, reinforcement! What was taking you knights so long? The people are in danger!"

"Yeah, from you, King Arthur!"

The crowd erupted into laughter as the police surged forwards.

"Don't take another step!" A handful of officers began to quickly surround the taxi that David stood upon.

"Drop the weapon and get down on the ground with your hands behind your head! NOW!" A dark-skinned female officer called out from the group. She stared with a fiery vengeance up at David, and Killian took a cautionary step back as she wielded a small black object in her hand. "Sir, I won't ask you again. DROP THE WEAPON."

David opened his mouth to protest and then silenced. And as the young knight lowered his weapon, this time, the crowd cried with merry cheers. Killian raised an arm to shield his eyes from the bright lights that clicked and flashed from other, smaller glistening objects in the gatherer's hands.

_Bloody hell,_ Killian thought helplessly.

There was nothing he could do but watch from the hooting crowd as David was lowered from the 'Taxi' and swept into the police's circle. Perhaps if there were less people, he'd attempt a rescue. After all, they'd fought worse before. However, this realm was unpredictable and confusing, and Killian thought it best to play it safe. David appeared to be safe and under the watch of seemingly authorised citizens. Or, 'officers of the law' as they addressed themselves as.

Killian painstakingly assumed that only spelt more trouble for David.

He froze for a moment. Perhaps he should follow his friend and announce their trouble. Surely these officers would understand. They must've come across various travellers from other realms before; accidently, or purposefully. The overwhelming crowd and noise narrowed in on the prince. All Killian could manage to take in was a few ragged breathes and painfully tight muscles that still screamed from his awkward landing from the portal.

He couldn't be sure if it was moments or hours that had passed when David finally caught his friend's worried gaze in the crowd. The knight managed to pry his hands away, cup them around his mouth and cry, "RUN, YOUR HIGHNESS!". His shout carried across the early evening wind straight to Killian.

_Damn this realm. _Killian cursed. _Damn it to hell and back._

A few curious looks were shot his way, as though others were finally noticing the prince's equally out of place clothing. A pair of middle-aged officers broke away from David and began pacing towards him with a look that suggested he would soon be joining his old friend…wherever David was now being taken.

So, Killian ran.

He turned and fled through crowds of shouts and exciting whispers into the twisted lanes and labyrinths of New York City. Colours of scarlet and burning oranges shone from star lights above the pathways, and Killian ran and ran until his feet began to ache and his stomach begged for a moment's rest. His lungs felt ready to collapse into dust, but Killian forced himself onwards. Even the material beneath his boots felt foreign. Although he'd never thought he'd miss Andalasia too deeply, right now, Killian would give his all just to return for a heartbeat.

Everything pressed together in one large, complicated puzzle. People, buildings, lights and laughter. It was overwhelming and startling to a prince used to silent forests filled with only quiet chirps of tiny creatures. This realm was a land of chaos. Judging from the smiling citizens and excited conversations, Killian felt to be the only one out of place. Though no one out rightly stared at him, he still felt…different. As though kept with a secret no one else knew or could possible understand for that matter.

It was exhausting, painfully so.

He eventually came to a sudden halt down a quieter path and stopped to catch what little breath he could, hands and head lowered against his thighs. The noise here was not so loud. Still distantly so, but just about bearable. A quiet hum of the city's heart seemed to over comfort rather than exclude him.

"You okay there, my dear?"

Killian started with a jump. He turned to see an elderly woman dressed in a large, beige overcoat and a burgundy skirt. Her gaze was gentle as she held out a hand as if to offer support. "Anything I can do for you, dear? You seem to be a bit troubled."

"Thank you for your concern, milady. I shall be fine after a moment's rest."

"Well, if you're sure…" She seemed hesitant to leave, but after Killian reassured her once again, she smiled. "Very well. Goodnight, young man."

As he watched the older woman walk down the pathway, he felt a wave of calm begin to settle in. It took another moment before he was able to stand, so he leaned against a nearby construction of dark red material, which seemed stable enough to support him, and thought for a while.

_Perhaps this realm isn't too bad. There's at least one sane woman here at least. _

Just as he was beginning to consider catching up with the older woman, Killian looked up as something caught his eye. There was something beautiful about what stood before him, and he couldn't tear his eyes away.

The young prince took a couple of steps forwards, unknowingly stepping onto a rather different and more dangerous sort of pathway.

What was a clock tower to everyone else was a unique sight of beauty and wonder to Killian.

He marvelled at the tall, elegant three-tier structure with curiosity. Unlike the Queen's castle, it stood in a friendly, welcoming shade of pale-washed yellow and white. It seemed to beckon with a purpose that was yet unknown. A round marble white and black shape pierced the centre, and Killian stared, transfixed as a small black line moved around the circle with precision. Memories of compasses and the prince's time on the navy and the sea flashed back to him. The familiar sense of shape struck him, and was the first real connection he'd had since arriving.

_Could it be similar to the stars? _He wondered. _Does it navigate this realm?_

Whatever it was, Killian felt less afraid by where the Queen had sent him. Perhaps there was a way to return.

_I'm going to find David, free him, and together we'll plan our return. _Killian rounded his shoulders with purpose, chin lifted at the clock tower._ I'll be prepared for whatever this realm has to throw-_

Before he was rendered unconscious for the second time that day, the young prince remembered a loud, angry horn and a brilliant flash of bright yellow..

* * *

Emma had been driving home as normal when it happened.

_What the hell was he doing in the middle of the road anyway? Stupid, handsome idiot._

She'd just got off the phone with Walsh, who had, thankfully, agreed to pick up Henry in the morning. Unfortunately for Emma, Thomas and Ella required a few more meetings to verify their divorce settlement, so she'd asked Walsh to take her son in for a few mornings.

Emma gritted her teeth. _I'm throwing a damn party when I'm through with those two, I swear I will._

Pushing the brake down at the next set of lights, she propped an elbow against the window and sighed. A small, but permanent voice had been bugging her since Walsh proposed the previous week. A sing-song tone of _'yes or no' _whirling round and round. True to his word, Walsh had given her space, and Emma owed it to him to at least think about it. Logically, she'd say yes in an instant. Emma hadn't even thought of a single reason to say no at all.

And once again, that made her feel uneasy. It just all seemed _too_ easy.

_Look, just say yes._ She told herself, and turned a corner into the quieter part near the apartment. _You're putting it off for no reason. _

_After all,_ Emma thought dryly. _What am I expecting? There's not going to be some big, universal sign telling me not to-_

"WHAT THE HELL!"

Unable to swerve the car, Emma was too late in noticing the tall figure. Standing in the _middle of the freaking road, _no less.

She cringed with sympathy when the Bug's bumper thudded into the man. He helplessly went down with an undignified yelp. As he collapsed in the road, Emma's heart practically drummed through her ribcage. She hurriedly parked in her usual spot and then clambered out of the driver's seat in a matched level of ungraceful movement. It was selfish, but all Emma was mainly worried about was the legal threats this stranger could enforce.

She was certain the physical damage was pretty minor, but that didn't do any favours for her terror.

"Oh, jees, I'm sorry. I should've tried to swerve the damn car more. But _what the hell were you doing in the road?_"

Rushing to kneel beside the man, Emma then paused in surprise.

Her shaking hands came to rest upon a handsome face with a striking jawline and chestnut brown hair. It was unprofessional, but damn it, no one was around to comment. She quickly drew her eyes away from his face and only then noticed the man's attire. His dress style reminded her of a pantomime, with a light brown long coat and a white medieval-styled shirt underneath; partnered with lace sleeves and all. Dark pants led on to ankle boots of fine leather, and Emma marvelled at the bizarre style, despite his unconscious state. She couldn't image anyone else pulling it off quite as naturally as the stranger did.

Emma silently prayed she hadn't killed someone so damn good-looking.

"Just my luck." She grumbled. "But seriously, come _on_. What the _hell_ were you doing back there?"

For a brief moment, Emma turned to look at what the stranger had been so adamantly focused on. _The clock-tower_, she mused. It now read, **8:15**, and she cursed again.

"Forgive me,"

A low, male voice startled her, and she looked down to find the man's eyes now wide and fearful. "I am not yet accustomed to this new realm, but…should I introduce myself?" He asked carefully. His voice was deep and musical, somehow affected by an accent she couldn't recognise or place. He coughed. "Or do you plan to kill me anyway?"

Emma didn't know whether to laugh or scoff. She decided on the latter.

"Kill you?" She repeated. Realising that her hands were still intimately pressed against his cheeks, she quickly released them. "What….no! Of course not. Why would you think that?" Emma muttered another curse. "Do I _look_ like a psychopath?"

The stranger stared up at her with such intensity that Emma felt almost burned by an untouchable fire of the soul. "You look like an angel."

She blinked, reduced to muteness by not only the random statement, but by its sincerity. He'd uttered it like a prayer. As though he truly believed he found a lost part of his soul. It took her a few moments to achieve movement as she stared like a gaping, unattractive fish at the young man she'd just hit.

Finally, her lips pulled into a slight smile and she was proud to manage a dry eye roll. "Smooth. Good one. I bet that works on all the ladies at theatre club, huh?"

His eyebrow quirked in confusion. "I beg your pardon?"

_Damn it, that accent is unreal. _

"I think you hit your head kinda hard." She rephrased a little more kindly, ignoring her stomach's decision to flutter and dance about like moronic fairies. "Can you stand?"

The man paused, and lifted himself up easily onto his elbows. "I do believe I can, yes." He then shot her a friendly smile as he clambered to his feet with ease. Just when Emma was about to apologise, he swept his coat behind him and dropped into a low, formal bow. "I am Prince Killian, and who do I have the pleasure of addressing?"

_Killian_.

"Uh…I'm…Swan. Emma Swan."

_Princess of crazyville, apparently, _she thought humorously.

Killian stood again, and folded his arms against his chest. His smile was brilliant and open and she couldn't help but return it. "Thank you, Emma Swan."

She grinned. Now it was her turn to raise an eyebrow. "For hitting you with my car?" She really couldn't help it this time; the lost puppy look on his face was too amusing for his own good. Quickly giving him the once-over for cuts and noticeable signs of damage, she caught his watchful eye and silenced.

_Oh, hell. Well, that wasn't at all suggestive._

She held out a hand apologetically. "Sorry, I was…uh…checking you out." _Oh, god_. "For cuts! And you know," She waved an arm again as her cheeks flushed a ferocious pink. ", bruises and that kind of stuff..." _Please, stop_. ", that one gets when one gets hit by a car..."

_And now I'm rambling like an idiot, wonderful. Could this night get any better?_

If the Gods looking down in amusement had any hand in what followed, then Emma gladly would've become a worshiper of Satan.

_And now it's raining…perfect._

Killian bowed his head and attempted to duck away from the rain. His long coat flew out behind him like some damn Disney prince, and Emma bit back another grin. _Oh, whoa, he even has a sword._ Without giving herself a moment to reconsider, Emma caught his eye and gestured for him to follow her into the apartment complex.

When he followed her up the stairs, she finally allowed a look back. "Uh…you can come and dry off inside, I suppose. My son will be asleep probably, so…try not to be too noisy."

Crossing an arm across his chest, Killian nodded. "You have my word. I appreciate your hospitality."

_What the hell am I doing? _She argued against the logical side of her mind. _I hit him with my car, I can at least offer five minutes to recoup. _

Satisfying her claim that he wasn't indeed a serial killer, Emma took a note of Killian beside her. She noticed the formal upright manner of his walk, as though showing signs of a defeat was inexcusable. His long stance was elegant for a man of his height. At least 6ft 1 or 2, she was surprised by his graceful ascend up the stairs, and light footsteps against the marble floor. His hair, wet from the rain, stood at random angles, and she ignored the urge to run her fingers through it.

For logical purposes, of course.

As they reached her apartment, Emma produced the key and unlocked the door as quietly as possible. Killian waited behind patiently; though Emma noticed the way his eyes widened as she opened the door and stepped inside. He seemed to become in awe of every single item. The key was met by a strange look; the carpet was met by a gentle tap of his boot, but the greatest response of all was the way Killian almost gasped as they entered the apartment.

It was a large, but simple room with a warm crème and brown colour palette. A plant corner plant, TV and maple wood table and chair dinner set graced the room. The room diverged into the kitchen, dining room and coat hall before branching into the separate rooms of Emma and Henry's bedrooms.

To Killian, it appeared to be straight out of a film. His eyes widened as he traced his ringed fingers against the settee, the table and every object possible.

_Where the hell did you come from?_

Emma stepped towards him, arms folded flat against her chest. "Uh, Killian?" His name sounded wonderfully unusual on her tongue. Part of her wanted to say it again, and again…

"Yes?" Killian's reply was soft, and when he looked across where she stood next to the sofa, his eyes shone with unshed tears.

She swallowed.

It was unlike her to be unnerved by someone, but Killian was new and foreign and somewhat engaging in an entirely new manner. She wasn't certain how to approach him. It didn't help that as he stared at her, his blue eyes offered a hidden sense of being lost, and it was one she could painfully relate to. The longer she looked, the harder it was to look away. Finally, she cleared her throat and nodded. "If you want to take a seat whilst I call you a cab, you're more than welcome to."

"Thank you, lady Swan."

This time, Emma ducked her head to avoid Killian seeing her grin. He looked to the sofa and gingerly removed his boots, and for some reason, that made her smile again.

She turned away and began to dial one of the many taxi services she'd had memorised for years.

This had to be one of the strangest moments in her life. She'd encountered weird arguments and bitter fights at work, but nothing quite as rememberable as hitting a ridiculously attractive man with her car only to invite him up to her apartment soon after.

"Hey, where is it you're from….Killian?" Emma trailed off as her eyes caught sight of Killian on the sofa.

Intentionally or not, the handsome young man had fallen completely asleep, and she felt a blossoming smile tug happily at her lips. A warm energy surged over her, as though at complete peace with the total stranger currently occupying her apartment.

She kneeled beside him again and simply looked.

His eyes were closed, but his lids flickered and danced like fireflies. A strange feeling of tenderness encouraged her to sympathise. She had no clue where Killian was from, or what the hell he had been doing, but Emma didn't want to send him away without knowing…well, more. Something demanded her not only to know, but to understand and help. It was strange yet at the same time, satisfying that there was something pulling and urging the young woman to recognise a kindred soul.

Emma smiled softly and placed the phone down on the hook, cutting off the taxi service.

She then carefully tugged a blanket across his body. "Goodnight, Killian."

* * *

So did you enjoy David's failed heroic attempts to slaughter every Taxi in New York City as much as me?

In an additional note, I actually cut this chapter shorter because I wanted to leave it on this fluffy CS moment because…well, it's cute, hehe. You'll find out more about what Milla is up to, and what happens to David as well.

Hope you like the little _references_ I threw in to King Arthur and the recurring '8:15' time on the clock-tower.

**Reviews = food…or cookies**, so let me know what you thought. Feedback is the **best** gift you can give to any writer, honestly, it's better than cookies! **(not as good as tea though.)**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: So, thanks to two lovely people who pointed out my mistake, I have an awkward confession to make. I've been spelling 'Milah' as 'Milla' and I'll explain why. My pen pal, Milla spells her name like 'Milla' so I edited spellcheck to ALWAYS correct it to 'Milla' and forgot to keep changing it back by mistake. Ooops, silly me. But thanks for reminding me :)**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

"Have a safe journey, my dear. And please, do offer my sincere condolences to the King and Queen. The loss of a child is simply…_awful_."

"Thank you, mother, of course, I'll pass on your sympathies."

Milah offered a small nod before digging her heel gently, but firmly into the speckled grey horse she sat upon. She then rode into the forest without as much as a secondary glance. After all, the princess knew what she'd see. She'd see her mother, the Queen, hiding a secret smile beneath a carefully masked, icy exterior.

Despite the kingdom's belief that their beloved prince was dead and gone, Milah knew otherwise. She didn't believe in coincidence. No matter how many times Regina reassured her of its irrelevance; the false letter reappeared in Milah's thoughts over and over again. It was simply too strange _not_ to question. Who had written it? And why did they wish to capture the prince of Andalasia and his closest knight?

Milah winced as she recalled Killian and David's bodies at the ceremony. Their flesh was bloodied and cut with clear animal wounds dug forever into the memory of all who loved them. It was a cruel trick. She herself had fallen for it for a few days. And then, the letter resurfaced in Milah's memory, and she vowed to discover the carefully buried secret that someone had gone to great lengths to hide.

One thing she knew for certain was that Prince Killian and Sir David were _not_ dead.

And as Milah spurred on the horse with an impatient command, the princess urged to find out just where her fiancé had vanished to. Or more importantly, who was the hidden threat of both the Enchanted Forest and Andalasia.

* * *

"Step out from the shadows, princess."

Milah furrowed her brow but stepped out into the light of the clearing. "How do you know who I am?"

The immobile woman in the centre of the forest cocked her head upon hearing the other woman's voice. Apart from the small gesture, she remained passive. Ragged robes of brown and dark orange wrapped around her, the Seer's arms were planted firmly by her sides; as though physically shielding them. When she spoke, the Seer's voice held a raspy, pained quality that made Milah wince. "Need I remind you I am a Seer? We can see many paths into the future as well as the present. All of your paths are ones that hold great significance, princess."

"Wonderful." Milla said flatly. She kept a wary eye on the strange woman, aware of the rumoured gift she possessed. "I heard there were many ways to summon you." Milah addressed the woman with clear conviction. "But I thought it fair to come to you myself."

The Seer's cracked lips pulled into a hint of a smile. "I appreciate your consideration. Tell me, what can I do for you, child?" She stared in Milah's direction, and the princess grew unnerved under her hard gaze. Although instead of eyes, the Seer had ugly and threatening criss-crossed stitches, Milah still knew better than to assume weakness.

_I am nor a child._

Instead, Milah took a step closer to the waiting Seer. "I seek knowledge of Prince Killian's whereabouts."

As they began to violently quiver and shake, The Seer raised her palms face up towards the sky. Then, she spoke quietly, "You seek the Mad Hatter."

"The Mad Hatter? How does that name relate to my fiancé?" Milah snapped.

"He can help you find your loved one."

_Killian is not my love._

"So he is alive?"

"Oh, yes, child. Your prince is very much alive."

Milah hid a sigh of relief. Although confirmation of her worries and doubts was only a start, it still allowed Milah to feel more confident. She relaxed her shoulders and unclenched her fists, spreading her fingers slowly against her riding pants. "The Mad Hatter?" She repeated again, this time, curiously. "How can he help me?"

The Seer remained silent. Though just when the princess was about to grow impatient, she raised her palms even higher as a pained gasp escaped the strange woman. "Your prince has been banished to a far off realm. Only The Mad Hatter can assist you in your quest. Only he will offer you service to cross realms and return once more."

_He's in another realm? _Milah thought, running a tongue slowly over the dry lips. Her brow furrowed again, a gesture that seemed to be rather frequent the more she discovered. _Whoever wanted Killian gone went to extreme lengths to ensure his, and David's disappearance. _

"Very well." Milah softened her tone in hope that the Seer recognised her gratitude. "Where can I find this…Mad Hatter?" The sooner she rescued Killian, the sooner the threat over the kingdom would be discovered and named. Then, they would reunite over the Dark One's threats and peace would be restored.

The Seer gave a suggestive laugh, the corners of where her eyes _would've_ been now crinkled with secret knowledge. "It's not where you can find him that's the problem, my child. It's persuading him to use his services. He lives in the heart of the forest, but you see, he's a rather _distant_ man."

She laughed again, and this time, Milah took a cautionary step back. "However," The Seer paused, palms beginning to move in hypnotic patterns of circles and spirals. She suddenly stilled with a wide smile. "I do believe you'll succeed, princess. I…I cannot reveal any more than that. I'm sorry."

Milah waved a hand. "You've been most helpful." She thanked softly.

"As a warning of caution, child, there are many threats you will face along whichever path you choose." The Seer finally lowered her hands, and when she looked across at Milah, her gaze seemed direct and powerful. "Beware that some may come from a terribly close proximity."

As Milah left feeling tense and unprepared, a recognisable giggle escaped the lips of a nearby figure also watching the princess leave. Rumplestilskin cocked his head and smirked, addressing the Seer with a disregard of, "Well done, dearie. The princess is quite underway on her little adventure."

Reaching down to pick up her abandoned shawl, the Seer's voice began to quiver with guilt. "I should have forewarned her about Jefferson."

The Dark One shrugged. "Come, now. She'll find out soon enough." Another bout of laughter erupted from his scaly lips. "And don't we all enjoy little surprises now and then?"

* * *

"I command you to release me at once! Do you even know who I am? Release me!"

Across in another realm, there was a milder trouble brewing. One of David's cell officers, a mid-thirties man with a crew cut and black and white dragon tattoo, scoffed, "Yeah, buddy, that's not gonna happen unless some idiot bails you out, or you're somehow crazy rich enough to skip bail." He directed the knight into his cell for the night. "Until then, you're stuck in here, so deal with it, okay?"

"It's just a holding cell, man. And you're lucky no one was injured, you know." The other officer added with a disapproving look. "Otherwise you could've had serious charges against you. Crazy fool."

David took a moment to focus his anger into observation. Looking around, he sighed. The walls of his cell held some similarities to the prisons in his own realm. The four metal bars that made up the small but reasonable square space were probably the easiest thing that David had grasped from this strange new realm. He gathered, however, from the chilled temperature that it was far from luxurious. Judging by distant angry cries and complaints, it seemed David wasn't the only one unhappy with current events. David in fact, felt surprisingly comforted by the similar prison, and after blocking out the angry echoes, he found it easy to relax and clear his mind.

Although the prison was clearly not a place to be enjoyed, the young knight was comforted by its solitude. It was the only thing so far that reminded David of home. Now, all he had to do was break out, find Killian, and quickly discover a way back to Andalasia. _The Queen must be stopped. _

"What'd they throw you in for, then?"

David jumped, startled by the sudden voice from the conjoined cell opposite him. He'd been so blindly wrapped up in thoughts that he'd completely ignored the young woman on arrival.

He stood and hurriedly lowered into a polite bow, one arm carefully tucked behind his back. He smiled at the woman, always eager to engage in anything that made him feel of norm. "I am Sir David of Andalasia." He told her happily. "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, mi 'lady."

"Huh." David's mysterious cellmate raised a single eyebrow at his bow. Her long, dark hair hid most of her face, but David assumed her expression was also amused. "Well, aren't you a real prince charming?"

"No…my name is David. I...I just informed you."

Her laughter was pleasantly loud and unashamed. "I don't care. Charming suits you."

Despite her playful teasing, David was delighted by the engagement. He found it enjoyable to simply talk, even if his conversation partner was currently laughing at his customs. She caught his eye and winked, and David was taken aback by her boldness.

_Perhaps her crime was lacking in tack_, he wondered curiously.

"I'm Mary, by the way." She added quietly, and turned her head away again. There was a hint of uncertainty in Mary's voice and David assumed this was hardly a place for personal discussion. Then she quickly smirked and her face lit up in amusement. "In case you were trying to you know, doe-eye it out of me."

"Excuse me?"

But Mary was already swiftly moving on to another topic and asked, lightly, "So, what brings you into this happy place?" This time, Mary quickly sat up from the bed she'd previously been lying on and swung her legs around to sit crossed legged on the mattress. Her dark hair parted and David paused for a moment when he noted her beauty; both inner, and outer.

With a soft, round face and eyes that sung of adventure and mischief, Mary seemed blessed with a curious soul etched into warm, green eyes. There was grace in her movement, but that of a practised fighter; aware of each placement of a foot or arm, and David wanted to know where she'd been taught such control. Although simple clothing of black, tight pants and a loose-fitting brown knee-length shirt also gave her a peaceful aura. Already, her complexity began to blossom before David's eyes, and he felt himself eager to learn every page of Mary's story.

"Earth to royalty." Mary waved a hand in David's direction to regain his attention. She raised an eyebrow again. "You have seen a woman before, right?"

Though her tone was teasing, there was an underlining test that David felt compelled to succeed in. His cheeks flushed slightly as he avoided her direct gaze. "I'm sorry…forgive me, mi 'lady." He murmured. "I did not mean to stare."

Mary blinked once, then again. "Huh." She began in a clearly conveyed tone of surprise. "Men don't usually appreciate us females calling them out, let alone apologise for leering." A small but gracious smile pulled at the corners of her slight lips. "You surprise me, Charming."

He shrugged. "I believe that anyone should be treated with respect." Trying to appear casual as he looked away from Mary's hard gaze was difficult, but a sincere smile revealed David's good-natured pride. "Women and men of all status, we all have a right to be given respect." It was a simple enough idea, but David viewed it seriously. He believed that respect was the singular most important thing in the realm. In any realm, for that matter.

There was a moment's pause before Mary shuffled on the mattress and laughed, keeping her gaze –which had now softened – on his. "Wow, you really are a prince."

David frowned. "I know. I told you."

The young woman chuckled again. "Obviously sarcasm is not your forte."

If it were possible, David's brows knitted closer together in confusion. "I have no idea what you're referring to. And please stop calling me…that." He ignored Mary's answering scoff and quickly gestured around their cells. "How long will they keep us in this…prison?"

"Why?" Mary's eyes shone with a mischievous glint and her teasing smile matched her quip of, "Are you scared?"

David's reply was instant. "Never."

He automatically regretted the false claim. Of course David was scared. He'd awoken in an unknown realm, lost contact with the only friend who could help him get back home and was now being held captive in a heavily guarded prison. The correct phrase would be, what _wasn't_ he scared of? He took a moment to still his heartbeat, distantly staring down at the grey tilled floor.

"You know what? I almost believe that." Mary's reply was quiet, as though still trying to piece David together like a complicated puzzle. Or a strange piece of human machinery born without a manual. She took in the grey shadows under David's eyes, and the distant look of a man adrift, and somewhere within Mary, a kindred spirit began to flicker in synch with David's.

She took pity on her cellmate and added, "They'll only keep me in overnight, probably. You?" She shot David an apologetic look. "Sorry, no clue. That all depends on what you did."

Humiliating flashbacks of loud crowds and too-bright lights resurfaced in David's mind. He winced inwardly, biting his lip in silent gratitude that Mary hadn't seen his oh-so-public display. "What crime are you in for?" He quickly replied.

Mary narrowed her green eyes but didn't press further. Then, she sighed. "The injustice of feminism."

"I beg your pardon? The injustice of…?"

"Feminism." She repeated stonily. "You know, that really threatening theory that women are equal to men."

David recited her words over and over again, but to no avail. He shook his head carefully and replied, "Forgive me, mi 'lady, but I have no idea what you're talking about."

With a sigh, Mary rolled her eyes and began to elaborate on her story. "Basically," She began. ", this guy jumped me in the middle of a goddamn sidewalk. I beat his ass up and then got arrested for it when the police finally arrived." He noted that her mouth was now set in a thin, angry line by the end. "Get it?"

He looked bewildered. "Why in the God's name would someone _jump_ you? Do you mean…this thief attacked you?"

"Uh huh."

"That's rather unchivalrous."

"And that's putting it mildly."

"Did he hurt you?"

"My pride says no but my fists say 'yes'." Mary held up the backs of her hands to reveal swollen red knuckles with a few, small cuts. When she noticed David's eyes widen with horror, she quickly placed them back in her lap and playfully added, "You should see the other guy's nose. It was worth it, trust me."

_This realm continues to grow stranger and stranger, _David thought. Once again, he was rendered speechless by the differences of both realms. Men and women fighting roughly for thievery and crime. Bright lights and large crowds of brash noises and reckless cheers. It was so…overbearing. As though the Gods couldn't decide what to manifest, so they simply threw every known creation into one world and laughed at the wreckage.

Realising that Mary was still staring at him, David cleared his throat. "At least…this thief didn't steal anything, I hope?"

She smiled, and it was a small and soft gesture that gave a sense of well-needed hope to David's loss and their surroundings. "Nope, but I stole something of my own in return." She caught his disapproving look before throwing her hands up in surrender. "What?" She groaned. "Don't give me those doe eyes, I deserved a little payback."

David gaped at her for a moment. "You're a thief!"

"And you're a prince." She bit back with a grin. "What a pair we make."

"What did you steal?"

"Just a handful of notes. It doesn't matter; they've been confiscated now anyway, you can quit judging me." She began toying with a wisp of hair, coiling it around her finger as she spoke. "My record isn't as pure and white as yours."

"Notes?"

As Mary was unable to detect a hint of humour in David's question, she simply explained, "_Money_."

"Oh, yes." David ignored the growing heat across his cheeks. Every mistake he made only further reminded the young knight of his lack of belonging to this realm. "You use notes instead of coins?"

"We have coins too." She replied slowly, searching for any trace of sarcasm.

"You stole money."

"Yes, I stole money, okay?"

"And they…the officers…will release you tomorrow? Even though you stole money?"

Mary tilted her head again like a devilish kitten. Her lips quirked into a smile again and when she looked across, David was pleased to no longer see any discomfort or uncertainty. Instead, Mary's expression was open and relaxed. Even her upper body was naturally tilted towards him. "You almost sound worried about me, Charming." She teased cheerfully, still toying with that same strand of hair before adding, "Look, after 24 hours, they'll call my roommate and she'll bail me out."

"I'm glad." David smiled. He hoped it conveyed the gratitude that he felt for her companionship.

"Are you?"

"Why would I lie?"

Mary shrugged but David watched as she looked away to reflect on something unseen. "Most people do."

A pause echoed with significance until David thought of his family and friends. He smiled softly at Mary and replied, "Then you've spent your life with the wrong people."

Quiet yet comfortable silence broke out again. Save for the occasional shout from a nearby cell, the pair sat in deep reflection. David thought of Killian, and his mother, Ruth and his late father. Both had always been so supportive in his quest to seek knighthood and travel across the realms with Killian. He'd not seen his kind-hearted mother in a long while. Ruth had been travelling up for the wedding but now David wondered if he'd ever see her again. He blinked to clear forming tears as his thoughts of family and _separation_ and being _lost _clouded his mind. He was now even more grateful for the cool air working against his heart's almost painful throb for a long-lost kingdom.

When Mary's voice cut through the silence, David welcomed it as a temporary distraction.

"I, uh," She tugged at a strand of hair and muttered, ", can ask my roommate to lend you some money and bail you out too…if you'd like."

David swallowed in surprise. "You would do that for me?" He asked quietly. "Why?"

Trying to appear casual, Mary swung her legs around and began straightening out the bed's covers. With her back turned to David, he couldn't see her jittery fingers anxiously missing the corners of the bed sheets as she spoke. Her tone however, was easily noticeably as rehearsed to avoid emotion. "Seems like the honourable thing to do, I suppose."

He smiled at the young woman's back. "This world continues to surprise me."

Mary turned around again, hair spinning to settle across her shoulders in a spread of dark, loose waves that framed her face beautifully. With her smile gone, she looked like an avenging angel sent to start wars with tricks and charm. "You find it surprising that a woman can fend herself and others, Charming?"

Her anger no longer frightened him, but David was still quick to correct the misunderstanding. "No, I don't. I learnt that a long time ago, mi 'lady." He paused and watched her expression soften, lips pulling into a smile before he carried on. "What surprises me is the kindness of strangers, like you. You…it…reminds me of home."

"Home." Mary sounded wistful now, as though home was some strange concept that she'd only read about in tales. "Sounds wonderful."

"Lights out! No noise, everyone."

The officer's call startled both David and Mary. They waited a few moments before reclining onto their separate beds. Although their beds rested against opposite walls, there was an air of intimacy that David felt was relaxing yet wonderfully tense at the same time. It was as though they were comfortable yet wanted more.

"Goodnight, Mary." He called out softly in the sudden darkness.

There was a quick chuckle, and then her reply came. "Goodnight, David. Here's to finding home, wherever that may be."

* * *

_Oh, god. Oh, god._

_Jesus Christ, what the hell was I thinking?_

Emma paced up and down her bedroom. The soft, irritated tapping of her feet against the wooden floorboards only matched the growing pace of Emma's anxious heartbeat. Awaking the following morning had sobered her up quite a bit. Especially as she suddenly realised Henry was about to walk in and see a damn Disney prince on the sofa.

"Hit a crazy guy with your car and invite him up to your apartment?" Emma mumbled. "Sure, why _not?" _She quickly dressed in a simple yet comfortably feminine blue blouse and black pants and flung on a chequered scarf to hide the stressed flush beginning to blossom across her upper chest and collar bone.

A quiet creek interrupted Emma thoughts and she swore, recognising Henry's footsteps echoing down the hallway.

_Oh, hell!_

Snapping on a pair of heeled boots, Emma flung the door open and quickly managed to grab the back of Henry's shirt with all the grace of an intoxicated chicken. The look her son gave her would've been amusing had it not been for Emma's worries. Henry's expression furrowed, brows knitted tightly together as he stared at her hands like they were burning through his pyjama top. "Uh…you okay, mom?"

"Yes, sorry!" Emma let go off his shirt and attempted a breezy smile. Judging by Henry's frown, it hadn't worked. "There's something I need to tell you."

Henry nodded uncertainty. "Okay…?"

_There must be an easy way to do this,_ Emma winced as Henry's expression only grew in confusion. Debating whether or not to skip work, an idea suddenly hit her and she snatched it desperately.

Smiling a little more easily, Emma reached out and tousled her son's hair fondly. "Henry, I had to invite a client back to sleep here last night."

Henry's forehead unwrinkled. "Oh, right. Like that other woman?"

Emma remembered another young client she'd had to invite over a few months back named Nora. The young woman had finally plucked up the courage to divorce her cheating husband and Emma had felt more than just a pang of sympathy for her, and offered her a place to stay during the course of the divorce.

She nodded at Henry, grateful for his excellent memory. "Yeah, like Nora."

"Where are they?"

"Uh, _he_ crashed in the living room, on the sofa." Emma muttered. She really didn't want Henry to question his mother's sanity any more than he already was. Considering Killian's lost state, Emma prayed that the strange young man was still asleep. Perhaps it was wrong, but Emma was a _tiny_ bit pleased she'd hit Killian with the car now. "He's probably still sleeping-"

"Good morning, Lady Swan, and…young Sir."

_Damn it._

Emma turned; an arm curled protectively around Henry as she addressed the clearly now-awake Killian standing a few feet away.

And _hell_, he really was as gorgeous as Emma had dreaded.

In the warm daylight flooding in from outside, Emma noticed the elegant detail in Killian's outfit. The brown long coat reached his ankles, trimmed with a thin strip of black, and ruffled white arm sleeves made Emma wonder which Jane Austen novel he'd jumped out of. There was an air of royalty and confidence in his upright stance. Shoulder back with slightly widened blue eyes, Killian's calm expression suggested he'd spent a great deal of time mastering the art of formality and correct addresses.

Emma couldn't hide a small smirk pulling at her lips. _Disney sure outdid themselves with this one_.

But he was undeniably handsome, too, and Emma's gaze ran helplessly over his face.

Though comparing Killian to Disney was like comparing Pepsi to Coke, it simply didn't do him enough justice. High cheekbones, a strong jaw and slight dark stubble, Killian was the love child of Prince Charming and a dark-haired 90s Biker Boy. He had that regal air, but also a hint of mischief and natural charm in the formal but friendly manner he spoke. A hidden glint of playfulness buried itself behind striking blue eyes. _The accent sure helps_, Emma noticed. She still couldn't quite place it; the lilt sounded Old English mixed with a hint of Irish and something else. Killian's entire appearance was classy and she couldn't help but take pleasure in feeling the outfit was well suited.

"Uh, hey." Emma raised her hand in a wave and immediately wanted to slap herself in the face. Henry needed to believe everything was ordinary and she'd only gone and freaking _waved_ like a pre-schooler.

Killian cocked his head at her with a little smirk and Emma resisted the urge to duck her head.

"Did you sleep well?" She managed a little more casually.

Emma watched as Killian's smile grew sincere, and he gave a grateful nod. "Wonderfully, thank you." His accent added a low, pleasing tone to his voice, and Emma could confidently wager that he'd had no trouble courting, at all. Killian ducked his head sheepishly and brought his hand up to rub the back of his neck, a nervous little gesture Emma had noticed the previous night. "However, the chambers in this realm are rather difficult to navigate." He glanced around the apartment in awe. "I'm afraid I've been searching for a lavatory for a considerably long time."

_Lavatory, realm, navigate, _Emma internalised, amused_. This guy is really selling it._

She then realised they were running late when Henry cleared his throat pointedly. "Oh, breakfast!" She rushed Henry into the kitchen, keeping a wary eye on Killian trailing behind. "Sorry, yes…Henry, can you get yourself sorted? I need to…uh, get the kettle on."

Her son nodded, side-eyeing Killian as he hovered around the breakfast bar. Emma clicked the kettle on and leant back on the counter to watch Killian. His hands continued to rub circles into his neck and his uncertainty was clear to all. She suddenly remembered last night and bit back a concerned gasp.

"Killian…are you, you know, okay?" Emma looked back over her shoulder, careful to make sure Henry's attention was still on preparing breakfast, and leaned forwards on the countertop. Killian looked back at her just as intently. "It's just…last night…?"

"I assure you, mi 'lady, no harm was caused." Killian slowly stepped closer, face inches from hers as his lips tugged into a teasing smirk. "Unless that was your intent?"

Ignoring the intimate closeness, Emma gaped at his implication. "No, of course not!"

Henry shot the pair a raised eyebrow before reaching up to grab a cereal bowl. Emma anxiously waited for Henry to comment, but then visibly relaxed when her son rummaged around in the cupboards, attention back to mundane activity once again.

She quickly drew back again and kept a distance between them. Her eyes were cast down away from Killian in attempt to try and refocus on constructing an ordinary, professional atmosphere. So Emma plastered a false, over-welcoming smile onto her face and breezed, "So, Killian," She raised her voice to be heard over the morning radio show. "Do you drink tea, or coffee at all?" When Killian frowned, she began to panic. "Uh, I can get you juice?" She tried again.

Killian's eyebrow simply rose even higher.

"Okay, how about…hot chocolate?" Emma asked. His lack of response put her further on edge. Sooner or later, Henry was going to realise something was off.

_Just choose a damn beverage,_ Emma silently begged. She began to helplessly ramble, praying that Killian could sense her desperation. "That's my favourite…with cinnamon…and whipped cream?" With one final attempt, Emma tried to smile encouragingly, but had no doubt it seemed obsessive and most likely insane. "It's good, trust me…?" She managed to finish weakly.

Fortunately, Killian finally acknowledged her discomfort and his expression unclouded in realisation. "A…_hot chocolate_…would be exquisite."

His accent struggled with 'hot chocolate' as though it was a foreign concept, and now it was Emma's turn to question _his_ sanity. Who the hell lived in New York City and hadn't heard of, or even had, a freaking hot chocolate? No one, that's who. So why was Killian so out of touch? But although there was definitely something unusual about him, Emma still felt drawn to Killian. Sure, the guy was attractive and handsome in a constructed dream-man sort of way, but there was something else. She'd quickly noticed it last night; that recognisable lost depth of a man used to navigating rough seas, now abandoned on land. Killian's attire was bizarre, but his abandonment was a feeling Emma recognised all too well.

And Emma felt alluringly drawn to help Killian; to be there when no one had been for her as a child. Just like Walsh was trying to do-

Walsh.

_Walsh_.

Emma's eyes widened. "Walsh!"

Henry and Killian both turned to stare at Emma's outburst with equal surprise.

Glancing up at the kitchen clock, she remembered with approaching urgency that Walsh would be arriving in…_hell_, less than ten minutes, to pick up Henry as requested. _Damn it_. Emma cast a nervous glance at Killian, handsome face and all, and winced. There was no doubt Walsh would assume the worst just as any normal person would mistakenly do so.

It was too late now to kick Killian out, especially now that Henry would question his mother's abrupt rudeness.

So Emma made a quick decision. _I'll just have to keep him hidden_, she thought feebly. She barely even convinced herself. Running a hasty hand through her loose waves, Emma tugged at her hair and hid a groan. There was nothing to be done now, she'd simply have to make do.

"Didn't you want to use the bathroom, Killian?" She asked cheerfully, with painfully obvious direction. Nothertheless, Emma shuffled past Henry, who was now engaged in a novel and paying little attention to his mother's frantic pacing. She tugged at Killian's arm and practically yanked him down the hallway.

"Well, yes-"

He easily followed Emma with a startled cry, but didn't protest further.

"It's just down here…" She told him brightly. The plastered smile turned to desperation and when she looked back at Killian, he stared right back.

Emma swallowed. _Great, he definitely thinks I'm insane now._

She paused and opened the bathroom door, revealing a light green and brown room containing a walk in shower, small bathtub and loo. Without pausing to reconsider, Emma pushed Killian from behind with a supportive, "There you go!" and ignored his startled grunt when he almost tripped onto the tiles. "If you want a shower, take your time! Just step in and it'll automatically sense you. Red button is for hot, blue for cold. Okay? Good. See you later!"

"But-"

With another wave that she'd definitely blush at later, Emma flung the bathroom door shut much to Killian's surprise. She spared a glance to her watch and bit her lower lip. _7 minutes to go, wonderful, _she breathed a sigh of relief and felt her shoulders loosen from the tension they'd been carrying.

A moment later, the shower's heavy spray echoed from inside the bathroom. Emma couldn't hide her grin this time when an equally loud, low cry of surprise reverted as well.

_Well, well, well. _Emma grinned guiltily on her way back to the kitchen. _Looks like the prince found the shower alright._

Henry then called from the living room, pushing aside Emma's amusement. "Hey, mom?"

"What's up, kid?"

Emma stepped into the living room and her eyes widened when she realised what Henry was holding; Killian's sword.

"Why does Killian have a sword? Hey!" Henry's face lit up with excitement as he was struck with sudden inspiration. His happy smile was infectiously wide. "Can I borrow it for show and tell?"

"What? No! Henry, you can't just…"

Before she could finish, Emma watched horrified as her son reached out and poked the tip with a forefinger. "Ow, it's sharp." Henry muttered, but his smile only grew.

"Henry Neal Swan, put down that sword, _now_."

Startled by Emma's sudden sharp tone, Henry quickly placed the sword back in its sheath and shuffled his feet awkwardly in front of his mom. He mumbled an apology and looked down in embarrassment at the troublesome finger, avoiding her stern gaze.

Emma sighed. His wounded baby animal look tugged guiltily at her heart, so Emma moved closer and pulled him into a hug. "I'm sorry, Henry, I didn't mean to snap. I was just being careful. " She said softly, and placed a quick kiss onto Henry's forehead. He pulled back and she was relieved to see Henry's usual happy smile had reappeared.

"Where'd he get the sword?" Henry persisted with an eager grin.

"Oh, that. Killian is kind of a fairy-tale buff." She lied quickly. Henry raised an eyebrow so she added, "He's part of a local theatre group. Totally got the hots for Cinderella, you know." Emma grinned when Henry rolled his eyes, glad to have their usual banter and comfort back. _I hate fighting._

"Mom, I could talk to him about my story!"

Emma winced. _Yeah, that's bound to turn out well for all involved._

"Look," She redirected Henry's attention with a nod to his room. "Walsh will be here in a few, why don't you go get dressed and ready?"

Eager to escape, Henry ducked under her arm and disappeared down the hallway, leaving Emma, finally, alone for a few moments.

_This is fine, I've got this completely under control. _Emma exhaled shakily and ran a hand over her outfit to smooth out any lines and crinkles in the material. _Killian is in the bathroom, I'm ready to go, Henry is, Walsh'll be here soon. I can do this._

Henry reappeared with the addition of his navy rucksack, arms happily wrapped around his latest novel. But just then, as Emma reached out to tousle his hair, two significant moments occurred at once;

One was the doorbell; Walsh.

And the other caused Emma's heartbeat to rocket into high figures again; the bathroom door creaking open…

"I'll get the door!"

"Henry, wait-"

Watching her son skip over to the door, Emma trailed off helplessly. She threw her hands up in frustration and spun around.

Walsh could not see Killian, _that_ was a surety. There wouldn't be enough time to explain. And God knows what mayhem Killian would accidently cause by insinuating something inappropriate about how she'd let him _stay the damn night. _Which, of course, Walsh may not appreciate. So Emma did was any normal, sane woman would do.

And when the door opened and Walsh greeted Henry, Emma forced a casual wave. "See you guys later! She managed, before rushing around the corner and stepping into the bathroom…

"Mi 'lady?"

_Well, damn, _was Emma's first thought.

Whether a prince or no prince, she couldn't deny that Killian looked equally as good without clothes as he did in them.

He was, thankfully, wearing a large white towel around his lower half, thank the heavens. Emma shamelessly trailed her burning gaze across Killian's taut muscles and swallowed once, then again. Her heartbeat was helplessly drumming for an entirely other reason now. And it definitely wasn't due to the gathering shower steam. Sure, Emma had seen plenty of muscle tone before, but Killian was incredibly statuesque for a young man; as though carved straight from the tall, dark and handsome cliché. There was still that formal, regal posture and without a shirt, Emma couldn't help but appreciate his tall frame. He was slight, but possessed strengthened biceps that only came from recurring exercise. She made a mental note to consider switching personal trainers because Killian quite obviously had a better deal.

After what felt like a lifetime of awkward and intimate silence, she replied, "Just call me Emma."

_Oh, hell, was that my voice?_

It had seemed to drop a notch into a husky tone thick with something far from innocent.

Killian shifted and turned a fraction, as though considering shielding his body from her completely. Shoulders hunching slightly, his hands automatically reached out to cover his chest, as though visibly uncomfortable of showing any skin whatsoever. It was strange but also sweet, and Emma hid an amused smile.

She cursed suddenly and remembered the purpose of actually barging in. As though realising her mistake, Emma flushed as heat painfully began spreading across her cheeks. "Oh, god…sorry. I just…uh, wanted to see if you got the shower working." She smiled weakly. "And it looks like you did! That's…awesome. Really."

Killian came to her rescue with a bemused chuckle, and he turned to gesture at the shower. "Where does the water come from?" When he looked back, his eyes had returned to their ordinary, cheerful glint. His smile was also genuine, and she relaxed in seeing Killian's usual and permanent state of curiosity.

"They come from the pipes."

"Aye, but where do they get the water from? Is it…magical?"

Emma raised an eyebrow, and searched his face for a sign of jesting. When she found none on Killian's curious but serious expression, Emma shook her head. "Uh, no, it's not. Welcome to the 21st century!" She said brightly.

At her words, Killian took a step closer to her, mere inches between them now, and the closeness created an air of intimacy that was like electric; sparking and flicking between heated looks and mutual attraction-

_Get it together, Emma._

Killian didn't move any further, and she exhaled, a little shakily, but still. His lips parted into an open smile. "Thank you, Emma." He said gently. It would've been a simple 'thank you' had it not been for the intimate and direct way in which Killian chose to look at her. Emma nodded slowly, unable to look away for another few moments.

"It's no problem. I did hit you with my car, after all."

He chuckled again, and ran a hand through his now-drying hair. A few dark strands stood on edge in a wonderfully tangled mess. "Yet I am a stranger to you, and you kindly invited me into your home and trusted me staying near to your son." Killian's accent lowered his tone even more, and Emma swallowed when he added, "I promise I shall find a way to repay your kindness, Emma Swan."

She quickly looked down at her steamed watch and breathed a sigh of relief. Surely Walsh would be gone by now-

"May I pass through, mi 'lady?"

"Oh, yeah, sure…wait!"

Killian brushed past her, hand hovering on the doorknob, but he turned back at Emma's protest.

_I'll make him stay a bit longer, just in case. _

She rushed to think of something to occupy his attention. In a useless and pretty inexcusable attempt at flirting, Emma twirled a finger around her hair and offered another brilliantly wide grin. "So, where are you from again, Killian?"

The young man looked uncertain for a moment, as though determinedly trying to work out what she was doing, though when Killian quickly avoided her gaze, Emma cursed his honourable nature. He clearly wasn't the type to fall for that so she placed her hands back on her hips again.

"I do believe we'd both feel more comfortable in continuing this conversation out-"

"No!"

As Killian turned the doorknob, Emma leapt forwards and reached for him.

Looking back now, she wasn't quite sure just _what_ she'd been planning to do. Perhaps pull Killian back into the bathroom. Or simply hope to startle him back into stillness. Either way, what _did_ happen had most definitely _not_ been Emma's planned outcome.

Killian swung the door open, half turned to her and halfway out the door. In response, Emma let out an urgent squeal, ungracefully sprung across the bathroom, and knocked Killian completely off his feet for the second time in 24 hours. They clumsily landed in an awkward heap on the floor outside; with Emma now lying completely on top of Killian – whose towel had fortunately remained secure. Their faces were pressed slightly against each other's in a completely accidental invasion of personal space. Her arms came up to rest against his bare chest. Also, to make matters worse, Killian's natural response had also been to wrap his arms around her waist.

Killian blinked in surprise.

"Mi 'lady, I-"

"Mom?"

"Emma?"

"Walsh!"

All four speakers shared one similar element; shock. Both Killian and Henry's eyes were wide and unsure, whereas Walsh looked as though he'd seen a ghost, and not a friendly one. He looked as though she'd viciously ripped his heart out and shattered it across the floor.

There was an unbearably loud silence for half a minute, then Walsh looked away. "Emma, you could've told me," Walsh's quiet voice broke the silence. He looked between Killian and Emma sadly and her lip quivered. "You didn't have to do…whatever _this_ is. I would have listened, you know that. Why…" Walsh shook his head, and patted Henry's shoulder. "Come on Henry, let's get you to school."

She quickly knelt away from Killian. "Walsh, this isn't-"

"What it looks like? Because it looks pretty bad to me, Emma." Walsh sighed again. "Let's go."

Emma desperately clambering to her feet, but the front door's abrupt slam cruelly took away what little hope she had left. She moved back until her back collided with the nearest wall and let out a frustrated cry, but instead, it broke into a quiet sob halfway. She'd selfishly broken the heart of an amazing man. Walsh would never see her again, let alone offer her the chance to explain. Emma exhaled in-between sobs. _I couldn't explain if I tried to._

Ignoring the reflected guilt-ridden expression in Killian's eyes, Emma angrily leaned her head back against the wall and felt her eyes close in surrender.

How the hell was she going to get out of this one?

* * *

Milah took a hesitant step forwards, and straightened out her riding cloak once more.

She rapped at the door loudly, offering four sharp knocks before she could talk herself out of it, and waited for the other side to respond.

The Seer had been truthful and Milah had found a small wooden hut in a large clearing in the centre of the forest. Dark wood-based, the hut was slight and rectangular with a naturally slanted roof that Milah found rather charming.

Though what encircled the house had been far from charming. It had been surrounded by sharp-pointed trees that stretched at terrifying sharp and deadly angles. Milah had cut and sweated her way through with gritted teeth, and her riding clothes were now torn and ruined.

Her plan was to offer as much gold necessary to this 'Mad Hatter' to ensure Killian's safety. She would find the prince and his knight if possible, and then bring them back to the Enchanted Forest. Their alliance would be reorganised, and their marriage finalised.

The young princess smiled at the chance to finally prove herself not only a princess but a hero to her people. Men and women were equal in this realm, but Milah was no fool. She knew that many men frowned upon her adventures and activities. Even joining hunts was considered a taboo for Royal women. However, Milah happily took no notice and ventured out anyway.

She heard shouting and grunting from the other side and took a cautionary step back. Milah's arm hovered against her sword, as she quickly considered whether or not to draw it. Reconsidering, perhaps drawing it would frighten or appear threatening to the Mad Hatter. After all, if she needed his help, Milah knew better than to burst in and assume power. It wasn't best to risk it.

The door swung open with a loud creak, and Milah's arm fell to her side in shock.

"Jefferson?!" She choked.

* * *

**This was one of my favourite chapters to write so far, so I hope you all liked it too!**

**I know many of you will comment on whether Killian and Emma's steamy shower scene was subtle foreshadowing, so all I'll hint at is; **_**maybe**_**…**

**Oh, and whose dynamic did you prefer – Snowing, Captain Swan or Team Warrior-Princess Milah? ;)**

**p.s. I have a nice little backstory idea for Jefferson and Milah – I know, it's a strange couple/pairing idea, but I really like what I'm planning and I hope you all jump on-board!**

**Review if you can :)**


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